


Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic

by OrderOfRevan



Series: The Knights of the Old Republic [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Gen, Novelization, Redemption, The Dark Side of the Force, Use of Canon Revan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 41
Words: 239,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrderOfRevan/pseuds/OrderOfRevan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four thousand years before the rise of the Galactic Empire, the Republic verges on collapse. DARTH MALAK, former apprentice of the DARK LORD REVAN, has unleashed an invincible Sith armada upon an unsuspecting galaxy.</p><p>Crushing all resistance, Malak's war of conquest has left the Jedi Order scattered and vulnerable as countless Knights fall in battle, and many more swear allegiance to the new Sith Master.</p><p>In the skies above the Outer Rim world of Taris, the Republic flagship THE ENDAR SPIRE engages the forces of Darth Malak, carrying Jedi Knight BASTILA SHAN. The crew aboard seeks to aid her mission, a desperate last effort to halt the Sith's galactic domination…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One; Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone. 
> 
> First of all, if you're reading this, I want to thank you. This is a labor of love, and something I've put a lot of time and planning into. For that reason, i hope that you enjoy it, whether you've played the game or are just reading this because you're one of my friends. 
> 
> Second of all, I ask you to bare with me because this work is going to be long. I'm going to do my best to finish this time, and hope that everything turns out for the best in the end. I am using a version of canon Revan, but because things are going to be canon divergent as I take artistic license, I can't really say that this is a canon-compliant story. You should imagine Revan as a tall, scruffy white guy, though. 
> 
> Thank you for giving this story a chance.

The Endar Spire burned like a candle in the vast darkness of space, the rear of the Hammerhead-Class Cruiser aflame with its own fuel, the vast hull shuddering, shielding shimmering in and out of existence. Inside, soldiers raced like rodents trapped inside a maze, watching in horror as beams of light cut through the Spire’s exterior and into her soft belly, Sith in shining suits of armor spilling into her. 

Cass hugged the walls tight, tuning out the claxxons as they roared as the interior lights flickered again, the Spire shuddering underneath him as she seized under the strain of her attackers. He could see from the porthole the Leviathan, a sleek Interdictor-Class Destroyer haloed by the atmosphere of Taris, a Sith flagship that had become infamous for its role in the destruction of Telos. 

Around him, people were dying, blaster fire ricocheting off of the shielded interior plating, vibroblades humming as they cut through plate armor. He had the premonition that most of the soldiers on the Spire wouldn’t live to see Taris, and then ones that did might not live to see the morning -- though he had no intentions of being one of them. 

Lieutenant Cassus Jaylen had survived the Corellian Run; he sure as hell wasn’t going to let the Sith Empire stop him from getting off this ship alive. 

Diving around a corner, Cass loosed the flap on his belt, pressing the ignition button on a frag grenade, listening to it as it began to hum, the sound increasing in pitch and frequency as he lobbed it clear across the corridor. The explosion was satisfying and sent the bodies of the Sith soldiers flying, black and silver blurs that smacked into walls, bones cracking sickeningly. 

It wasn’t a pleasant way to die, but Cass was unarmed, fumbling out of his bunk in the panic. Right now, he didn’t have the option of giving the Sith a gentler or more dignified death, and even if he did, quick and dirty was what would keep him alive. 

“As my father used to say, there are two kinds of people in this Galaxy,” he said to his audience of bodies, kneeling by one of the corpses and pulling the blaster rifle from its fingers, checking to make sure the energy cell wasn’t damaged or unstable. “Those who are dead--”

Cass turned and spun down the hall toward the Bridge, glad that the barracks were so close to the Command Deck. If he could reach the escape pods, assuming they hadn’t already been jettisoned, he could get out of here. 

“And those who are alive,” he finished as the ship shook again, his uncanny reflexes saving him from a nasty tumble to the ground.

Cass pressed onward, trying to take advantage of the chaos to slip by the Sith unnoticed, picturing the back alleys of Nar Shaddaa in his mind. If he could navigate the maze that was the Corellian Sector, he could navigate a failing cruiser with locked down blast doors. They were both about as filled with smoke, and equally dimly lit, he thought as he bore a sharp right to travel toward the helm. 

Three standard weeks he was aboard this cruiser, three weeks and just like that his first tour of duty as a commissioned officer was about to come to a close. He’d been called in to consult, trained on Coruscant for this, and for what? To slam through Taris’ atmosphere in a metal egg in the hopes that he survived the crash? 

Oh goody. 

Skidding to a stop, Cass quickly pressed himself into the shadows, his heart leaping at the humming of lightsabers, their glow cast against the walls, warring blue and red. He could hear the grunts of exertion, and though he couldn’t see the duelists, he could well imagine the clash of their blades and the sparks that flew between them. 

For a moment, he deliberated, certain the Dark Jedi would try to kill him if he passed, his thoughts interrupted by a loud groan and then the sound of an explosion. The Spire rocked violently beneath his feet and he stumbled forward, catching his hand against the metal, the bodies of the Jedi and her dark counterpart at his feet. It seemed he’d been especially lucky, though a strange awareness tingled at the back of his neck, like… like there was something he had been forgetting. 

_ May the Force be with you.  _

Shaking his head to rid himself of the sensation, Cass’ grip on the blaster rifle tightened until his knuckles turned white with strain, jaw set into a grim frown. He took a stilling breath and steeled himself, pushing his hesitation and fear of the unknown behind him, drawing instead of the well of pure determination within him.

Pressing forward, Cass made his way to the Bridge without further interruption, forced to shoot the door’s keypad, watching them open with a whoosh of cold air. The bridge itself was now little more than a crypt, eerily silent, the bodies of Sith and Republic personnel alike littering the deck, though there was no sign of the Captain or any of the Jedi he’d been recruited to consult with. 

Running a hand over the lower half of his face, Cass cursed loudly, walking over toward the ship’s central terminal to see if he could discern anything from it. In bright red letters,  **_WARNING: POWER LEVELS CRITICAL_ ** flashed across the screen, and Cass knew that if he couldn’t get off the ship -- and soon -- he really would crash and burn in Taris’ atmo. 

“Son of a Hutt!” 

He nearly shot the terminal, for all the good it would do him, but quickly reigned in the impulse. Cassus had a reputation for being a quick draw, clever, and unerringly calm in pressure situations. Giving in to his anger right now would only waste precious time, something he couldn’t afford. He wasn’t about to blow his chances throwing a pointless temper tantrum that might alert his enemies to his location. 

A breath whistled past his teeth as he strode toward the second exit, and the second branch, of the ship. The escape pods were on the deck below this one, and he knew Hammerhead vessels well enough to know that there was a service lift to the deck below this one only a few corridors 

away. The Sith probably knew about it too, though -- most of them, he reminded himself, had been Republic soldiers once before deserting. 

He couldn’t imagine ever betraying the Republic. 

“How are you going to get out of this one, Cass?” he muttered under his breath, making his steps as light as he could, though stealth had never been his strongest asset; that honor belonged solely to his sharp tongue. “This is a worse situation than the hold off with the Black Sun. At least gangsters can be bribed --” 

Sith were zealots, as Cass was squarely reminded when he approached the group of them guarding the lift and they fired on him without question. There was no reasoning with someone who had dedicated themselves to the subjugation of the Republic and the eradication of all resistance, though he was forced to admit that Malak’s Sith were… far more brutal than they were under Revan. 

He’d been evading or fighting the Sith for as long as they had existed, smuggling goods past their blockades and the Interdictor Destroyers. Cass  _ knew _ the Sith, knew how they thought and, most importantly, knew how to fight them. 

Standing his ground, he slung the rifle into position, letting instinct take over his actions. He’d learned long ago that instinct was a better guide in piloting and fighting than any astrogation chart or special scope could ever be. Instinct could compensate for things that the senses alone could not. 

Firing off a single shot, Cass watched the blaster bolt pierce a chink in the first Sith’s armor, cutting clean through his abdomen. As it rang out, Cass found himself firmly in the state of mind needed for fighting, everything else fading until his focus was a pin prick. 

He rammed the butt of his rifle into the soldier that charged him, hard enough that he stumbled backward. Taking advantage of the man’s lost balance, he reached out with his free hand and grabbed the blaster pistol from the Sith’s belt, firing off a round at the Sith who still shot at him from a distance. He watched the man crumple onto the ground, quickly sidestepping a long swipe from a vibroblade, spinning to find the final Sith recovered and charging at him. 

“Catch,” Cass said with a lopsided grin, tossing the blaster rifle at the advancing soldier. 

The man jumped backwards to avoid the weapon, but that gave Cassus enough time to act. With a speed that was nearly superhuman, he turned the blaster pistol on his opponent, unleashing a stream of blaster bolts at key weak point. The Sith collapsed, and Cass leapt at the opportunity to kick the vibroblade from the Sith’s hand, shooting him in the stomach to end the threat. 

“Take that, you chrome-plated schutta.” 

Tucking the blaster into the holster strapped to his utility belt, Cass opened the door to the emergency lift, edging the body of one of the Sith out of the way with his boot. He knew he couldn't be far now, he thought as he leaned against the outside of the lift and looked up at the dim red and orange lights above his head. The Sith were unlikely to have spread far onto the lower floor, most of their energy concentrated on crashing the ship, not commandeering it. 

Things would have been different under Revan, who prefered to take prisoners and convert them to his cause, even if he had to torture them to do it. Cass had nearly been taken a few times himself, back when he’d owned a freighter, before a Republic Recruiter in the Dealer’s Den had stumbled upon his sense of patriotism. 

His stop came, and he crept from the creaking, whirring lift into the bright light of one of the lower corridors. The hallways here were less damaged, which confirmed his suspicions that there were fewer Sith on this deck. That alone would explain the few escape pods he had seen jettisoned; the Sith probably didn’t care about a few low-ranking officers or soldiers escaping, not when they were here for the Jedi.

Not when they were here for Bastila Shan. 

Besides, the very presence of an Interdictor Destroyer, especially the Leviathan, probably meant that Taris was already under blockade. Vaguely, Cass thought that Malak would have been more intelligent to let the Endar Spire dock and take the Jedi into custody that way, but he doubted the man who had bombed Telos was capable of that kind of subtlety. 

Hanging a sharp right, Cassus headed toward the escape pods, paying attention to the sounds of the ship around him. Above, he could hear the sounds of battle, distant through the heavy alloys that composed the Spire, but around him all was quiet save the humming of the white lights above. It didn’t take him long to find the right room, after all he’d been on Hammerhead Cruisers before, opening it to find it already occupied. 

“Another survivor?” The man was wearing a naval uniform, red, black, and orange, a look of relief on his face; Cass didn’t miss the insignia pinned to his jacket -- Captain. “I was starting to worry no one else would make it out.” 

“It was close,” Cassus admitted. “But I’d get out of here now, if I were you. The Bridge has been taken. There’s not many people left alive -- The Sith are killing everyone they come across.” 

“I’m not surprised,” the man said, brushing his hand over the stubble on his chin, his dark eyes casting a worried look about the room. “But you’re right. We can’t waste time here -- Bastila’s already left.”

Of course she had.   
Cass wasn’t actually that surprised that the Jedi had already abandoned ship, but couldn’t help feel annoyed about it anyway. Wasn’t it the job of the Jedi to protect everyone else? Even if Malak was after her, Jedi weren’t supposed to fear death or capture, so all these people had died for no reason, just to cover her escape. 

He wouldn’t die for her. 

“Come on,” Cass said, punching a sequence into the screen next to the last escape pod. “We don’t do anyone any good by staying on this flying crypt.”

Regret rattled around in the cage of his chest as he looked back over his shoulder, wishing he could have done more for whatever survivors there were, before he plunged into the darkness of the escape pod. Inside, the blue and green lights of the interface screens hummed with quiet energy, growing more intense after the man slipped into the vessel after him and the door closed with a loud hiss as the airlock sealed. 

“Lieutenant?” The Captain asked as he sat down on the opposite side of the cramped orb, for all the good it did him -- Cass was tall, and took up enough space that he already felt like the walls were closing in on him. “You’re the one who transferred onto the ship with the Jedi, aren’t you? The new officer?” 

“And you have to be Captain Onasi,” Cass said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as escaped lurched beneath them and then shot off toward Taris, where it would be dragged into the planet’s atmo. “I’ve heard stories about you.”

If the man answered, Cass didn’t hear it beyond the sound of an explosion and the sudden jarring pain in his head, accompanied by a ringing in his ears. Hissing, he doubled over, curling in on himself, trying to fight against the sensation of being pulled underneath dark waves, struggling to breathe. 

It was a losing battle. 

Darkness consumed him, dragging him down into its depths, the screaming of the pod as it passed through the atmosphere a poor lullaby to sing him to sleep. 

* * *

The bridge of the Behemoth was shadowy and cold, awash in the sort of hate he’d only felt before in the presence of the Sith. Not the soldiers, who felt just like any other person, or the Dark Jedi, who felt like a well of selfishness and anger. No, this was the presence of a Sith, the complete absence of mercy and warmth only felt in company of those who had embraced a philosophy that put power above compassion.

It manifested like a chill, creeping about his ankles, hanging like a shroud about his shoulders. The source was obvious, the shrouded figure of the Dark Lord, who seemed to leech light from the air around him, draining all warmth from the room. 

Across from him stood the Jedi, the anathema to his darkness, easily overwhelmed in the wake of his incredible power. They broke against the wake of his wrath, cut down, their feeble light snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane. There was nothing they could have done to stay standing, the darkness of the Sith so overwhelming that none of them had any chance of defeating him, not without intervention from the Force. 

“The situation is bleak,” said the voice from beside him in a tone of agreement, causing him to recoil as he turned and found the dark entity standing at his side. “Though I don’t know why you care. If the outcome is their failure, you benefit.” 

Cass opened his mouth to protest, but the man held up his hand to silence him, staring directly into his face. The Sith had no features, just a distinct black and red mask, one which the smuggler recognized almost immediately as belonging to Darth Revan, the Lord of the Sith.

“I don’t want to hear you argue with me,” the Sith said said in his altered voice, deep and mechanical from behind the mask. “I know what benefits you better than you do, little bird. You can try to fly away, but you can never escape your past.” 

“If you’re trying to intimidate me, it’s not going to work,” Cass said, even as the cold that emanated from the Dark Lord penetrated his clothing and raised the hairs on his arms to painful attention. 

“Intimidate you?” Lord Revan sounded amused, the world around them wavering as another image came into sight, that of a woman in gold, her face obscured by light, her core that of molten fire. “I’m trying to  **_help_ ** you.” 

He walked toward her, robes trailing after him like a shroud of darkness, dissipating into the air, tendrils of cold and black slithering along the ground after him. The freezing center of the Dark Lord wavered in the woman’s burning heat, the blackness of his soul warming to uncertain silver, snow melt after a long winter. 

“Beware Bastila Shan,” said the Dark Lord, drawing away from the Jedi. “She’s young, brash… but powerful in ways she does not yet understand. Do not allow her to have undue influence over you, Jaylen. She could shake the core of who you are.” Revan reached out a black hand toward her, gauntlets grasping her blazing heart and squeezing, his darkness seeping into her like a poison. “Snuff out her light, taint it. Don’t waste a resource like her. Call to her and she will come.”

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about buddy, but if you think you can just tell me what to do--!!”

The words seemed to rush from his lungs, the breath to speak stolen from his lips, and he could  _ feel  _ Revan’s eyes on him, so cold that they burned him. Fear threatened to consume him, but he fought against it, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggled to breathe while he tried to quell the emotion in his chest. 

“You’ll do it because it’s in your best interest,” the Dark Lord said. “And because your best interest is the best interest of the Galaxy. You wouldn’t fail them, Jaylen.”

He tried to break the Dark Lord’s mental grasp, but his will wasn’t strong enough, and he flailed uselessly and silently in the wake of Revan’s hatred. Whatever this was, whatever the reason for it, he couldn’t fight back, and that terror alone was enough to make him struggle more desperately. 

Beneath them, the Behemoth began to shake like the Endar Spire as she slowly began to break apart under fire. The Dark Lord turned away from him, looking toward the depths of space, which burned orange and red with the light of explosive plasma colliding with the Behemoth’s shielding. 

“Remember, bird -- beware Shan. She could be your unraveling.” 

He looked over his shoulder, and for a moment, Cass could swear he saw a glint of pale yellow from the depths of the mask, the eyes of a predator glaring from the darkness. The sight made his blood run cold as he ceased struggling, those words making his chest constrict for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp. It was like chasing smoke, trying to figure out why the words inspired such desperation in him, understanding dancing just beyond his grasp. 

The Behemoth shook again, and Cass was knocked off balance, watching in mute horror as he tumbled to his knees and the Dark Lord was consumed by fire. The ship itself began to combust, heat chasing him across the bridge, jolting him awake, his mind immediately fogging, recollection lost in the terror of the nightmare. 

He was left with the sense that something important had just happened, but he couldn’t recall exactly what it was. It felt hollow, empty, on the fear and the phantom heat of the Endar’s flames lingering on his neck.

Wait… Wait… 

The Endar Spire!

“Son of a H--” 

“Whoa, hey there!” A hand pressed to Cass’ chest, pushing him back down onto a bed, even though the last thing he remembered the burning Spire and the tiny escape pod stuck in the wake of its fiery death knell. “Calm down there, Lieutenant.” 

Cass drew in a sharp breath through his nose, trying to fight against the urge to sit up and struggle against the hand on his chest. An ill-thought out, impulsive reaction wouldn’t do him any good right now, not when he had no idea where the hell he was or who the hell he was with. Instead, he struggled to remember what he had been doing before he’d woken up, thinking about the Spire, the escape pod, Jedi Shan, and the man he’d escaped with… 

“Captain?” 

“Good. I thought you’d hit your head so hard you were never going to wake up.” There was a thoughtful pause and then a sigh as the hand retracted, allowing Cass to slowly push himself into a sitting position. “Glad to see I was wrong.” 

It took a moment for Cass to adjust to the dim overhead lighting of the small room, but when he did, he saw the grizzled and drawn face of Captain Onasi looking down at him. His backdrop was little more than a closet covered in construction with a door off to one side that Cass was willing to bet lead to a tiny refresher. 

“Whatever this place is, it looks like someone’s still doing work to get it up and running,” Cass said, rubbing the front of his head to find it bandaged with a piece of old cloth; tarp, maybe? “Taris…?” 

“We’re in an abandoned apartment in the Upper City, Lieutenant,” Captain Onasi adjusted the chair he was sitting in, tipping it back on two legs. “I dragged your unconscious ass here after we crashed to avoid the Sith patrons. Most of the other tenants in this neighborhood are aliens, so no one is questioning our presence.” 

“Right. Taris is infamously racist. No one is going to whistleblow if we give them space,” Cass said as he ran his hand over his lower face, finding stubble already growing there, rough against his palm. “No wonder my stomach feels like a bottomless pit. I’ve been out at least a day. Have any water?”

The Captain nodded, reached out to a nearby desk that Cass hadn’t even noticed, dropped his chair back to the ground, and pressed a canteen into Cass’ hands. “There are some nutrient bars in the pack over there,” he said with a nod toward the foot of the bed. “I grabbed what I could when the alarms started blaring, but it’s not much. It will have to last us until we can get off this rock.” 

“Tell me what happened?” Cass asked, pressing a button and listening to the locks on the canteen hiss as they opened, pressing the opening to his lips before taking a long drink. 

“There’s not much more to tell,” said the Captain with a heavy shrug. “I got here and did some scouting, but I can’t figure out what happened to Bastila Shan, only that her escape pod crashed in the Undercity and that everyone in this damn place is looking for her. The Exchange wants her because they want to sell her to the Sith, the Sith want her because Malak wants her, and the civilians want her so the Sith get off their planet.” 

Cass nodded as he leaned forward and reached out for the pack. “I saw the Leviathan from the Command Deck on the Spire. If an Interdictor Class ship is here, you can bet your ass that it’s a blockade. These poor idiots never had a chance.” 

As he rummaged through the bag for the (tasteless) nutrient bars, the Captain continued to speak. “The thing is, we don’t really have a choice but to find Bastila, either. As far as I figure, she’s our best way out of here. All of this was  **_her_ ** mission, after all, and she may still have information relevant to the Jedi Council, which means we have to get her back to them in one piece.” 

“Play the good Republic Soldier, right?” Cass asked with an arch of his eyebrow as he pulled apart the foil. “Save the Jedi, maybe get reassigned somewhere less stressful? Except not.” He took a bite of the nutrient bar and chewed thoughtfully, swallowing before he continued.  “Big Hero is like all Jedi and has the gravity of a small star. We’re both doomed to get pulled into her mission by proving ourselves brave and worthy, and they’ll tell us it's our destiny.” 

“You have a better alternative, Lieutenant?” the Captain didn’t sound defensive, just resigned and tired, tugging at his beard as he spoke. “The Sith might destroy everything if she doesn’t get back to the Jedi. She’s the only reason we’ve won any battles against them at all.” 

“No. I don’t,” Cass admitted, crumpling the wrapper in his hand. “I just think it was a mistake to kill Revan. The Jedi have only made the Sith Empire more unpredictable. It would take a miracle to save us now, and the Jedi won’t provide it, especially not in the form of some spoiled Jedi Princess.”

“How can you possibly think leaving Revan alive would have been a  **_good_ ** idea? You didn’t even fight in the Mandalorian Wars. You can’t know what it was like, what he did. How he betrayed us,” the Captain cut himself off and breathed out a sigh, as if forcibly releasing his anger from his body. “Listen. I’m not here to argue politics with you. I think we can both agree that we have to get off of Taris as soon as possible, and that Shan is the best way to do it. What matters is figuring out our next move.” 

Cass nodded and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling the makeshift bandage from his head and musing his long, dark hair so some of it hung over the small gash. “First of all? Medpac. I can’t be walking around looking like I got hit in the face with a stun baton.  Then we gather some  **_real_ ** information. You’re lucky I used to be a smuggler, Captain.” He offered the other man a lazy, easy smile to try to break the tension between them. “I know how to get information out of the locals, but --oh. You’ll want it to be a low class cantina. The rich don’t say  _ anything _ interesting.” 

Something about Cass’ demeanour must have put the man at ease, because the Captain quickly relaxed and stood, the chair scraping against the metal floor. “Call me Carth. We’re going to blow our cover pretty early if you keep calling me Captain.” 

“Cassus Jaylen,” said Cass as he stood, holding out his hand and looking down into Carth’s face with an easygoing smile still plastered on his lips. “Call me Cass.” 

“What the… You’re as tall as a Wookie,” Carth said as he took Cass’ hand and shook it. 

“Not remotely, but it’s hard to tell when there isn’t a Wookie around to compare.” Cass pulled away and turned back to the pack to rummage for a medpac. “Got any weapons around here? I know I was carrying a blaster pistol when I was knocked out. I’m not going out there unarmed.” 

“I stowed them in the lockbox under the bed. Let me… Let me get them.” 

Cass stabbed the medpac into his leg to administer the kolto while Carth worked on getting the weapons, finding himself fully armed but a moment later. Carth was shrugging off his officer’s jacket and stashing it in the lockbox, which he shoved back underneath the bed, leaving him standing in a t-shirt and a pair of heavy canvas pants. 

“Ready to go, Cass?” 

“I was born ready, Carth,” Cass said, turning the safety on his pistol off. 

He had the nagging feeling he’d need it, and his instincts were never wrong. 


	2. Part One; Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has supported this story. I really appreciate your kindness and your continued readership.

The streets of Taris were like the streets of any big city world, dirtier the farther down you went, an endless tangle of corruption under a veneer of durasteel and chrome. They were nothing like pastoral little Deralia, which was part of what had drawn him to them in the first place, big and bright and fast… They were what he had always wanted.

Taris, though, was run down, a once bustling trade metropolis that had been cut off from Galactic Trade by new hyper routes. It had been obsolete since its occupation by Mandalorians during the Wars and subsequent fall of Adascorp, which was a good reason not a single spacer who frequented the Outer Rim would touch it. 

It really was  _ the _ most unfortunate world Cass could have possibly imagined them crashing on, and even worse -- they had hit a roadblock. 

“How in chaos are we supposed to get around the barricade?” Carth hissed as Cass slammed back a shot of Corellian Fire Whiskey, letting the pleasant burn linger in his chest for a moment, choosing to focus on the haze to an extent that it almost brought him new focus. “And how can you be drinking at a time like this? Don’t you have **_better_ ** things to spend your credits on?” 

“Nope,” Cass said, glancing toward Carth from the corner of the eye; the poor man was so tense he was practically tearing his beard out in frustration. “Relax. You’re not making anything better by letting your emotions get the better of you.” 

Drumming his long fingers against the surface of the bar, Cass watched the sea of faces and found himself lost in thought as he examined the patrons of the Upper City Cantina. It made sense that the Sith would try to restrict access to the Lower City and Undercity, making each sector easier to control and containing the search for their missing Jedi -- practicality did take precedence over stupidity with Malak on occasion, it seemed. 

“So what’s your plan, just to sit and stare at people until a solution occurs to you? I don’t even get why you wanted to go into this place in the first place.” Carth prattled on in the background Cass ignored him, something tugging at his awareness like a Jawa with scrap to sell. 

“I just… I had a  **_feeling_ ** . Can you… Can you be quiet for just a moment? Please?” Cass ran his hand over his stubble, his brow furrowing as he held up his opposite hand, his dark eyes scanning the Cantina a moment longer before falling upon a single Sith woman sitting in uniform alone at a table. “I win the tiebreaker.” 

He could practically feel the good Captain’s confusion as he walked across the Cantina and approached the Sith woman with a disarming smile, immediately catching her off guard. “I’m… I’m sorry if I’m bothering you’ ma’am, I just wanted to thank you.” 

She blinked up into his face, a pale woman with a drawn face and blue grey eyes; like all Sith, she looked tired and worn thin, almost transparent, with dark circles under her eyes. “Thank me? Is this some sort of joke?” 

Cass’ could sense Carth’s critical eyes on him but continued to smile, biting his lip for a moment and holding up both his hands almost defensively. “No, ma’am, not at all. I just… Taris is so chaotic. The Sith are doing a world of good here. I’m starting to see that there’s real appeal to the Imperial way of things.” 

She relaxed and smiled, running her finger tiredly along the rim of one glass, tugging on the collar of her officer’s uniform with her opposite hand. “You really mean that, don’t you? It’s good to see that some people understand the mission of the Sith Empire. The Galaxy has fallen too far into chaos and we all intend to set it right.” Her expression softened and she paused, seeming to deliberate for a moment. 

“You… Wouldn’t be interested in attending a party with me tonight? My superiors will be there, and if you tell them that, you might be able to impress them enough to get a posting. We could use men like you. And besides…” She reach out to errantly brush a hand down his shoulder, grinning. “You might have fun.” 

He did his best to return her grin with one of his own. “I… would be more than happy to attend. I might bring a friend just as interested in the Sith, but don’t worry… I plan to reserve any “fun” for you.” 

“It’s in an hour at an apartment across the way,” said the woman, pulling her hand away, still grinning. “I’ll see you there, tall, dark, and handsome.” 

He watched her go, turning back to the Captain, who was already walking toward him with a concerned expression on his face. Carth didn’t say anything immediately, though, instead he seemed to be waiting for an explanation -- Cass was glad that the Captain trusted him enough not to desert at the first opportunity. “I’m going to lift the papers off one of the officers. They’re bound to have the clearance we need to get to the Lower City, and if they don’t have the papers, we can steal their uniforms when they pass out from drinking.” 

“That’s… not a bad idea, actually,” Carth looked back toward the bar. “So, we have an hour?” 

“I’d like to look around the city, if you don’t mind,” Cass said, briefly fingering the grip of his pistol thoughtfully. “This cantina is too… upscale to spend too much more time here. It reminds of a Tarisian politician.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Carth asked, walking toward the exit -- through the smoky pazaak den and out into the bright light of the early afternoon. 

“Pretty on the outside, but filled with nothing but hot air.” Cass grinned, Carth’s groan almost viscerally satisfying. “Come on -- I want to scope this place out.” 

For a moment they walked together in silence, the sounds of the city about them too typical to betray the worse than average corruption just beneath the large walkways at the base of the gleaming skyscrapers. The homogeny, though…  **_That_ ** should have been a clue to the observant, Cass thought as he looked around, passed on all sides by humans and the occasional Twi’lek. Coruscant, for all its problems, still invited diversity.

“So, Cass,” the Captain began as they walked toward the second residential district of the Upper City, away from the packed transport terminal and the bustling downtown. “I’ve read your dossier.”

“Hell of a way to start a conversation, Cap.” Cass looked back over his shoulder and offered the man a lopsided smile. “So you read my dossier. Plenty of people have done that, Carth.” 

“You really speak that many alien dialects? And you’ve smuggled spice along the Corellian Run? Isn’t that  _ dangerous _ ?” The Captain began his interrogation, though it was safe enough -- with this many people around, no one would be listening to their conversation. “I mean, I get you were a smuggler, but that hyper lane is pretty well policed.” 

“ _ Was _ well policed. Nothing is really patrolled like it used to be before the Mandalorian Wars,” Cass shrugged, scanning the teeming bodies, his eyes briefly passing over three small figures in the distance, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up when he saw them. “The Republic doesn’t have the manpower, which you know, otherwise it wouldn’t have recruited me.”  

He paused and looked back over his shoulder. “And yes, I do speak that many languages. Now… If you excuse me…”

He wasn’t sure what it was, but since he had come here, his instincts seemed to grow stronger. Something about the planet itself felt… hungry, empty, and he could almost pull on the strands of that hunger to find distress. 

That was why he was certain that there was something wrong with the figures, even more certain when he saw a Duros and a Trandoshan crowding a feeble old man into a corner. The berth they were given was a dead giveaway to how dangerous these men were, and how illegal whatever they were doing was.

“Hey!  _ Chuba _ !” Cass didn’t wait to hear what they were saying; he’d spent enough time in the criminal underworld to guess -- Some thugs shaking down a poor guy for money on some stupid loan. “ _ E chu ta _ .” 

Without waiting for a response, Cass open fired on the Duros, sending a blaster bolt straight through his forehead -- it was big enough to be a target. That left the Trandoshan to charge him, vibrosword in hand, hissing something at him that he didn’t quite catch before he was charging back, wrestling the weapon out of the Trandoshan’s scaly hands. 

A bit too late he realized it could still kick him, jumping backwards far enough that its long leg couldn’t reach him, the alien still bounding after him. It was then that it occurred to him that he could use the Trandoshan’s momentum against it -- Grin splitting his face in two, Cass stumbled to his feet and feinted left. The Trandoshan, unable to change his course, hissed something furiously and tried to stop moving, but it was too late -- He ran face first into one of the support beams for a nearby rest stop. 

Cass’ blaster hummed as he sent off another shot, straight into the Trandoshan’s sword hand, listening to it scream in agony the alien rolled over onto his back and scrambled to his feet. It was hard to penetrate armored scales with a blaster beam, but it would still hurt him enough to drop the weapon. 

He dived for the vibrosword, spinning around just in time to see the Trandoshan charging at him again. Standing his ground, Cass pushed the activation button on the vibrosword’s hilt, listening to it hum to life, thrusting it upward as the Trandoshan charged at him a second time. 

While it was true that blasters weren’t very effective on scales, which was why so many thugs employed Trandoshans as guards, it wasn’t true for vibroweapons. They could cut through almost anything, if they were sharp enough, and if you knew how to aim your blows. Thankfully, Cass had martial training; he’d learned long ago that blasters weren’t enough to get by in the Galaxy.

That was why the Trandoshan impaled himself on the blade, the blade piercing through him like a hot knife through Hutt blubber. There was a squelching sound -- blood -- and then the Trandoshan fell limp, Cass propelling himself backwards far enough to pull the blade free. It was accompanied by another sick sound, and then a thud as the alien fell face first onto the permacrete. 

That left Cass alone with an old man who was huddling against a wall, and the Captain, who had only just reached the site of the commotion, his face impassive and then concerned as he looked upon the civilian. “They were harassing you?” he asked as he reached out a hand to help pull Cass to his feet. “Are you hurt?” 

“N-no…” The man swallowed and wrung his hands together. “Thanks to your friend here. They were Exchange thugs. I still owe them money. I- My wife was right. I shouldn't have…” 

“How much?” 

Cass immediately reached down to dig in his purse. If he was going to start a gunfight on the behalf of a debtor, he’d better make sure that debtor didn’t end up in a ditch later because of something he’d done on instinct. 

“One… one hundred credits.” 

“They tried to kill you over one hundred credits?” Carth asked in complete disbelief as Cass dug for pocket change, shoving two fifty cred pieces into the man’s hands. “What the hell kind of town is this?” 

“Go pay off your debt right now,” Cass aid. “Don’t look back. Take this to who you need to take it to and then go home.” 

The man didn’t even respond, though his look of large, watery eyed gratitude was enough to express his feelings. He dashed off, moving pretty quickly for someone his age, leaving Cass standing with a bloody vibrosword in his hand, Carth beside him, staring after the man with a furrowed brow. 

Carth tugged at his beard again. “You know, Cass,” he said. “I’m starting to think that maybe we’ll work well together after all.”

“I certainly hope so, Cap,” Cass said as he wiped the blade on the Duros’ clothes, “Because if we don’t trust each other, we’re going to die in this sorry excuse for a city.” 

Ignoring the look of mute shock on Captain Onasi’s face, Cass went about his business, more determined than ever to leave Taris behind him.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe it worked. The way you smooth talked that woman into drinking herself silly… The look on the officer’s face...” Carth sat on the bed in the dingy apartment, examining the uniform of the Sith Trooper piece by piece. “This is pretty light. I wonder what it’s made of.”

“Cortosis-alloy mixed with other metals. It’s blaster resistant, lightsaber resistant, and lightweight.” Cass rapped his knuckles against the metal, listening to it thud against the fire retardant padding. “It had to be more than one metal or it would shatter. Cortosis is only good in its natural state for blades and other melee weapons. Too brittle.” 

The Captain stared at him for a moment and then shrugged. “I would ask you where you learned that from, but you were a smuggler. You might give me that cliche bit about having to kill me if you told.” 

“They taught me in officer’s school. I guess you’re a space guy so you wouldn’t have been hanging out with the ground troops,” Cass said, putting the armor to the side and sitting atop one of the storage boxes. “You need to know about shielding and how to route the fighters, not the schematics of Sith Trooper armor.” 

“True enough, though I can talk to you backwards and forwards about Mandalorian armor and weapons. I guess it comes from experience. Things were different back then.” Carth set aside the armor he was examining and leaned back on the bed, his arms cradled behind his head. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, and when he did speak, his voice was biter. “After what happened on Telos… I feel stupid for not knowing more about the Sith.”

“You were there?” Cass asked. 

He’d heard about Telos. At the time he’d been on Corellia, sharing a drink with a lady Gand and a Nautolan, when the holonet went wild with images of once green Telos, a shell of ash and fire. It reminded him of… Of… 

_ World turned black with soot, corruption seeps up from the core, ships bombard the crust and stand upright like Coruscant’s skyscrapers… _

“I should have been. It… I mean, I don’t know if you’ve read my dossier,” Carth said with a smile so thin that it was almost transparent, snapping Cass’ attention back to the conversation and away from the eerie images in the back of his mind. “Probably not. But I’m from there, and I was part of the relief and evacuation effort. It was hellish.”

“Not that you needed a reason to hate the Sith in the first place,” said Cass, drawing a long leg up to his chest to lean his head against his thigh, “but I get why you were so angry when I said we shouldn’t have done away with Revan earlier.” 

“I… actually meant to ask you about that, when we had time, and since we’ve decided not to do anything about the Lower City until tomorrow…” Carth trailed off. “Well, we have time to talk. Like those stupid team building exercises from when we were kids, at least if you were raised on a city world.” 

“Not me. I’m from out there, in the Rim. Deralia. I’m not even technically a Republic citizen,” Cass offered Carth a half smile. “But that didn’t stop them from recruiting me.” He paused, playing idly with the fasteners on his jacket for a moment. “Do you think all Sith are created equal, Carth?” 

“They’re all evil aren’t they?” Carth gave him a bland look and then sighed. “Look, I don’t… I don’t actually know. We have to be about the same age, right? And I’m guessing that you’ve seen some things, being a smuggler. I bet you’ve been around the block a few times.” Carth paused and gave Cass a long look, prompting Cass to nod in response. The Captain continued, running his hand over his beard pensively, almost nervously. “You have to know how hard it was to be betrayed by our heroes. They saved the Galaxy and then… then they became monsters. They killed the same people they had defended, just like that. Thanks to them, we never had a chance to recover. I just… I don’t know.” 

Cass thought for a moment, staring off into the refresher, his brows knit together over his dark eyes. He looked at his own fingers and, for only a moment, he felt like they belonged to someone else, someone… not him. 

Shaking himself of the feeling, he focused his attention back on Carth, who was still waiting on an answer. “I get the feeling. I felt that way when the Jedi refused to help the Republic with the Mandalorians. I’m not that surprised everyone was so willing to sacrifice Outer Rim planets, we’re always the first thing to be sacrificed to protect the precious Core Worlds, but it still stung.”  He shrugged. “I understand why people would desert to stay with the man who saved them. How many of the Sith do you think are disgruntled ex-Republic citizens who felt betrayed by their heroes? At least Revan was…” 

He frowned, looking for the words. “Malak is the one who bombed Telos. Revan wanted to conquer it. It just feels like Revan might have been the easier evil to fight because he was interested in preserving the infrastructure of the Republic. I don’t approve of his actions, he was just as evil as Malak, but he’s the kind of evil you can route because there’s a rhyme and reason to it. It’s not chaos.” 

“So what you’re saying is that it’s harder to create a battle strategy to fight Malak than it is to fight Revan,” Carth muttered, and then sighed. “I guess I get that, but I still disagree. Revan was terrifying, even when he  _ was _ on our side. His strategies were next-level and ruthless. We’re better off with Malak at the helm.”

“Even with the Jedi Princess to make you fight better?” Cass grinned out of one side of his mouth, then frowned. “I can see where you’re coming from, too.” He paused, his frown sharpening. “I don’t want you to think I’m a Sith sympathize, Carth. I’m not.I just don’t like the Jedi… Not after what they did to this Galaxy. I’m still loyal to the Republic.” 

“I had my doubts,” Carth admitted. “And I doubt we’re going to see eye to eye on everything, but after seeing you kill the thugs attacking that man? No one who does that kind of thing could ever join the Sith, not without giving up on their morals.” 

Cass didn’t say anything, not right away, shifting on top of the boxes. “Anyone can fall, Carth. Revan did. I’d be an idiot if I didn’t constantly examine myself. Anyway… We… We should try to get some sleep. I’ve got a bad feeling about tomorrow.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Carth said, though his voice didn’t sound convinced. “Are you going to be alright, taking first watch?” 

“I’ll be fine, Carth. This isn’t my first stakeout, you know. I’ve probably been on more than you,” he grinned at the man on the bed. “Get some shuteye. I’ll let you know when I have to sleep.” 

Carth didn’t say anything, flipping the bedside light off and rolling over onto his side, leaving Cass alone. Quietly, the smuggler-turned-soldier tucked his legs underneath him and closed his eyes, listening to the creaking of the apartment building and the sounds of the footsteps outside, both incredibly loud and infinitely quite beyond the beating of Cass’ own heart. 


	3. Part One; Chapter Three

As it turned out, getting into the Lower City was both more difficult, and far more simple, than Cass could have ever anticipated.

It was difficult because Cass realized far too late that he was a large sized man who could not fit into a suit of armor meant for an average sized man, which was a stressful revelation, until Carth found a pair of cuffs he had stashed away with the provisions he had gathered from the Spire. Wearing the cuffs was uncomfortable, and coming up with a reason why a Sith Trooper would be transporting a prisoner to the Lower City was comparable, with the revelation that Carth was about as creative when it came to stories as a Wookie was a reptile. 

In the end, it was Cass who came up with the cover story -- The most simple story he could think of. 

He would play the part of a captured Republic soldier who knew the location of Bastila Shan, the missing Jedi, and was planning on leading the Trooper there. No one would dare doubt that, and it took the least amount of acting; Cass may be excellent at giving motivational speeches, when pressured, but he was no actor. 

It was simpler because… 

Well, they had overestimated how much the Sith Trooper posted as the door guard would  **_care_ ** . He was an utterly apathetic sounding man, and frankly, Cass couldn’t blame him. The Sith officers at the party the night before had seemed equally as bored with their station, and it was true that it had to be utterly monotonous to occupy a planet whose government certainly surrendered to Sith control. 

Smart for the people of the planet, boring for a bunch of soldiers keyed up from years of active warfare. 

They slipped into the Lower City with little resistance, especially with Cass smiled and suggested that the man look the other way -- a prisoner was a perfectly natural thing, after all. The man agreed, though his voice sounded more hollow than bored, for a moment, in an eerily familiar way that drew Cass into his own mind until they were home free and Carth was jostling off the cuffs. 

“Ready to find that seedy Cantina?” Carth asked as Cass rubbed his wrists. “Wait. we should probably duck into some old apartment building so I can take this off and stow it in the pack.” 

“I’ve got your back, if you just had over my vibrosword,” Cass said, feeling better once he had the blade in his hands. 

“I’ve never heard of a smuggler who uses melee weapons.” 

“Then you haven’t heard of any good smugglers.” 

It was quiet as they made their way to one of the small apartment complexes, so dilapidated that it was a wonder anyone was able to live there. If there were locals, no one questioned them ducking into an abandoned apartment cubical, little more than a cramped and dirty tenement. It was disgusting that they could pass this off as an acceptable living space. What kind of zoning laws did Taris have? Even Black Sun Territory wasn’t this… 

Bleak. 

Hopeless, a smear on the face of the Galaxy, but still filled with a sort of energy that this place lacked, the sort of energy that allowed for change, at the very least. Taris dragged on forever, never changing; those in the Lower City didn’t even possess the illusion of hope that they could escape. 

“Ready to go?” he asked Carth when the shuffling behind him ceased. 

“I don’t need anything else here,” said the Captain, slinging the straps of the backpack over his shoulders. “Unless you want to stop and use the refresher.” 

“I doubt this place has its water turned on anyway. Look at it, it’s hardly a luxury apartment.” Cass fiddled with the belt loop that held his scabbard and replaced the vibroblade at his side. “What we  **_should_ ** do is not stand in one place for too long. I have a bad feeling about the sort of people who lurk these halls.” 

“This is gang territory,” Carth said as he mimed riding a swoop bike. “Which means you’re right. We should hurry and get out of here. I’m not really sure we can afford to sit around on our haunches anyway.” 

No more was said between them for awhile as they traversed in silence. Something about the Lower City sapped Cass’ ability to converse, though he wasn’t sure why. It almost felt like phantoms lurked around every corner, the ghosts of memories from another lifetime, enough that Cass might have believed he had been here before in a past life --  _ if _ he believed in that sort of thing. 

With the way things were, he just assumed that he and Carth didn’t have much to talk about while traveling dirty streets filled with sullen looking aliens in even filthier clothes. They were from the Republic, and Taris… was as hopeless and Outer Rim as it got for city worlds. It was depressing how there were no laws here to protect these people from the humans above. 

It didn’t take them long to find the Cantina, which was already filled to the brim with people, all of them different. It honestly felt a bit like being on Anchorhead, except more anxious, and brimming with the sort of resentment that bordered on the wrong side of hate. Cass was quickly realizing that it was going to be easier to listen for information in this town than it was going to be to  **_ask_ ** for it. 

“Keep your purse close, Cap,” said Cass as he slid up to the bar  and placed a few credits on the counter. “Give me the best, cheapest whiskey you have, ‘tender.” 

The Ithorian behind the counter didn’t say anything, just nodded at him reservedly and politely as Carth shambled into the chair next to him and swung the pack around into his lap. It was only a moment before Cass had a little glass of whiskey in his hand, one that he was surprised to find wasn’t too bad. He wondered who this guy’s suppliers were, since they were probably having this stuff smuggled in from somewhere to keep their Exchange clients happy. 

“Tell me something,” Carth said while Cass kept his senses trained constantly on the perimeter around them; he’d chosen this place specifically because of its strategic central location. “How does someone like you get himself into this kind of situation?” 

“You’re going to need to be more specific than that,” said Cass, pressing the rim of the glass to his mouth and examining the crowd more properly.

The man with his face entirely covered in the blue jacket and the Wookie stood out the most among the patrons. Everyone else was a pretty average spacer or poor alien, dressed in vests and simple shirts, blasters on their hips, looking typically twitchy and ready to attack anyone who said the wrong thing. 

And here he’d brought his sword to a gunfight.

Good thing he was damn good with a sword. 

“You know, how did you end up here? It just seems strange, someone like you, doing something like this.” Carth was trying to be as vague as possible, Cass could tell, but if he’d really been clever, he would have just shut up about it. 

“Call me a rogue with a heart of gold,” Cass shrugged, watching out of the corner of his eye as a pair of young Twi’leks in black jackets approached the man in the blue jacket. “That’s what most people end up calling me… eventually.”

Carth seemed about to say something, but he was interrupted when one of the Twi’leks pulled a blaster on the man in the jacket. Immediately, a hush fell over the entire Cantina, the true calm before the storm, the calm of an audience waiting to see if the other shoe was going to drop. 

“ _ We’re the Black Vulkars _ ,” said the kid in Huttese loud enough that the people in the smoky pazaak den in back probably heard him. “ _ Brejik don’t want no Exchange interference in Vulkar business, Calo Nord _ .” 

“Davik Kang pays you filthy little cretins,” said the man from behind the bandages covering his face, not even looking up from his drink. “You have until the count of three to get out of here, or I’m going to blow your heads off.” 

“ _ The Vulkars don’t stand down from anyone, Nord _ ,” the other Twi’lek said, stepping forward to try to use his size to intimidating the almost delicate looking human. 

“One,” said Nord with a sigh, pulling dual blasters from his beneath his long, blue jacket. 

At his side, Carth tensed, as if to go to the Vulkar’s defense, but Cass reached out and held him in place. “We can’t afford to interfere,” he hissed. “The entire place might turn on us. If Nord is Exchange muscle… Just… Just  **_trust me_ ** .”

“Two.” Nord’s word was spoken in near perfect deadpan, which in and of itself should have been enough warning for the young punks, who instead started  _ laughing _ . 

Carth, meanwhile, gave Cass a despairing look but gritted his teeth and sat back down, staring at the bar as if he could crush it with his gaze.

If he’d been a Jedi, he probably could. 

“Three,” said Nord, and that single word rang out almost as much as the shots that fired from his blasters, almost simultaneously. 

Cass heard the thuds as the corpses hit the floor, and didn’t need to look to know that both Twi’leks would be lying there with smoking holes in their chests.  

Without another word, Calo Nord, Exchange muscle, tucked his blasters neatly back into his coat, downed the rest of the liquor he had been nursing, tossed a few creds on the table, and then walked out the door like he hadn’t just murdered two kids in cold blood. 

It took only a minute for the entire Cantina to stir back to life, though Carth still looked pale faced and resigned. Cass couldn’t blame him -- he had to be used to seeing death, but it wasn’t every day you watched a public murder happen, one that you couldn’t stop without serious consequences. Quietly, he pushed his remaining whiskey toward the soldier, offered him a sad half smile, and then paced around the bar, getting closer to the walls and the people whispering amongst themselves. 

“Isn’t this Bek territory?” he heard a Sullustan say. “What were the Vulkars even doing here? Can’t Thek protect his own people anymore?” 

“Don’t be too hard on him. You know how hard the kriffing Sith press down with their thumb,” said the human woman across from him, miming the motion she had described. “And he’s lost his eyes. It’s gotta be hard to adjust.” 

Cass didn’t stick around to hear the rest of their conversation, his mind already whirring with thoughts. A turf war, then, between the swoop gangs Captain Onasi had mentioned, with the Exchange funding the most ruthless, maybe without the members of that gang knowing. If this was Bek territory, they might be able to talk to the Beks, see if they had seen anything, because frankly? Cass didn’t want to fall into bed with anyone who worked for the Exchange. 

Not even indirectly. 

He was deep enough in thought that he didn’t notice that he was about to collide face first with a walking carpet until a large, strong paw was upon his shoulder, holding him in place. A low, tonal grumble in Shyriiwook, confused by not angry, alerted him to the presence of the Wookie he had seen from the bar before the fight broke out. 

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” Cass said, taking a step back, a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye his only warning before a scrawny blue Twi’lek was jabbing him with her finger. 

“Hey, you,” she said. “You should watch where you’re going. If Big Z wasn’t such a cool guy, you might be short one or two arms right now.” 

“Right. You know Wookies being  naturally violent is just a myth created by slavers, right? They’re strong but I’ve never meet a Wookie, who --” He cut himself off when the girl glared at him with the intensity to rival a reactor; it wasn't really… scary, he just hadn’t been expecting it. “Okay. Sorry to have bothered you. It won’t happen again.” 

He turned to go, but the little Twi’lek called after him. “Wait a second. You’re new around here, aren’t you? Poor slob, you must be stuck here because of the Blockade.” 

He turned back around, looking down into her face, noticing her Wookie friend (Big Z?) from the corner of his eye as he sat down at one of the small tables to eat the food that was sitting there. “Yeah. That’s me. The poor slob who’s stuck on this glorified mothball until the Sith find their golden child Jedi.” 

“Just in case you haven’t already figured out, you should avoid the Vulkars,” said the girl, crossing her arms over her chest. Now that he got a good look at her, she was dressed like a Scavenger in simple, durable, clothing, her face dirty, her hands rough. “If you go to the Beks, they can probably find you work or something in the meantime, so you can afford to get off. You look like a mean spacer, so if you just tell them Mission Vao and Zaalbar sent you, they’ll probably let you into the base.”  

“So you’re… Mission?” he asked. “Cassus Jaylen, previously captain of a small freighter, now just some schutta stuck on a backwater. Call me Cass.” 

“Be careful what you say about this backwater. She’s my home. Not everyone can be a Core Worlder like you, Flyboy,” said Mission very pointedly, jabbing him with her finger again. “Just watch yourself. I’m warning you because Big Z seems to like you, and I like whoever Big Z likes.” 

The Wookie at the table grumbled quietly at being mentioned, but didn’t seem to have much of an opinion on him one way or another. 

“Thanks, Mission…” Cass glanced to the wookie. “Zaalbar.” He offered them both one of his more stunning smiles, because as weird as this was, she had given him a means of meeting with the Beks. “And by the way, I’m not a Core Worlder, but I see where you would get that impression from, what with my shiny new boots.” Another brilliant grin, and he turned around. “Look after yourself.” 

She was a bit strange, he thought as he left her behind, heading back toward Carth and the bar, the man still as sullen as he had left him. In spite of her oddities, though, probably affected because she was a small girl in the big city, she seemed the honest sort, and he had a good feeling about her information. 

Quietly, he leaned forward and tapped Carth on the shoulder, the man tensing before he looked into Cass’ face and relaxed, if only nominally. “Learn anything interesting?” The Captain asked, pushing the glass, now a little bit more empty, away from him. 

“Get up, Cap,” said Cass, offering the man a hand to pull him to his feet. “We’re going to see the Hidden Beks.”

* * *

 

It took a bit of haggling to get into the door, the Beks were a lot more dedicated to policing the city than the Sith above had seemed to be, but when Mission’s name was dropped they were let in; albeit with a bit of wary reluctance. Carth seemed relieved to be making progress, but still hung a bit behind him, leaving Cass to do most of the talking. That might have been strange, until Cass remembered that Carth was a career soldier and he had been a career criminal before falling in with the Republic. 

As it turned out, Gadon Thek, the leader of the Hidden Beks, was a large, middle aged black man with eyes clouded over in white and blue. Cataracts, Cass thought, rubbing his hand over the bottom of his own face, feeling the stubble there growing into a full beard. It was a shame that this man lived in such a Force forsaken cesspool, or he could have gotten the medical help he needed to be able to keep his vision -- Cass had a good feeling about Thek, though he wasn’t really sure why. 

“Why have you come here?” Demanded the woman at his side, a proud, tall Twi’lek woman with dappled trails on her lekku and staring eyes. “Just who do you think you are, barging in and demanding to speak to Gadon --” 

“Relax,” said Thek, holding up a hand and offering his guests a smile in their general direction. “Let them talk.” 

“Gadon Thek? I’m Cass and this… this is my associate.” Cass wasn’t really sure what to do with his hands or his face while speaking to a man who couldn’t see him, so he just clasped them behind his back and stood at attention. “I actually had a question about the Republic Escape Pods that crashed in the Undercity.” He hesitated for a moment, and then drew himself up to his full height. “I’m a Lieutenant in the Republic Military. As far as we know, the two of us are the only survivors… And a Jedi named Bastila Shan.”

He watched Thek’s face carefully, and though he displayed almost nothing in response save for an elegantly arched eyebrow, his guard immediately froze, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. Cass could almost sense her suspicion, but shrugged it off.

“Shan? You’re really looking for the Jedi?” Thek leaned forward over his war table, littered with a dozen or so little figurines and a map of the Lower City. “So you two are Republic Officers, huh? Lieutenant, you said. And your friend…?”

“Captain Carth Onasi,” Carth said for himself, saluting. “I served under Supreme Commander Revan in the Mandalorian Wars.”

“ _ Captain _ Onasi? I’ve heard stories about you.” Gadon Thek nodded. “I fought in the Tarisian Resistance back during the Mandalorian occupation, and people liked to tell stories about you and Serrocco.” 

Carth didn’t say anything, so Thek continued, his palms still braced against the war table as he stared at the two of them without seeing. “I believe you. Liars wouldn’t walk in here and claim to be respected Republic War Heroes, especially not outright.” He paused and heaved a sigh. “I hate to tell you boys, but you’re already too late. The Vulkars have picked up your Jedi, and they’re holding her captive at a secure location.” 

Cass’ heart dropped into his stomach briefly, but instinct told him to keep pushing Thek for information, so before Carth could say anything else, he stepped forward to speak. “Thek,” he said, glancing briefly toward the guard, who was daring him with her eyes to get closer. “Is there some way to get her back? We don’t really have an option if we want to move forward.” 

Thek… smiled. 

And what a smile it was, a bit unsettling, in a way, because it seemed so self assured. “I was hoping you would say something like that. Listen, they’re holding the Jedi up as a prize for winning the annual big Tarisian Swoop Race in a few days. We’ll let you, specifically, ride in the race… If you do a few favors for us first. And trust me, you’ll want to do these favors, because they’ll benefit you, too.” 

Carth seemed hesitant, but Cass forged on. “Fine. We can’t really afford not to rescue the Jedi, and I think you know that. What are your terms?”

“We’ve been keeping a watch on this area and we know you have at least one Sith Trooper uniform. We want it. In return, we’ll hand over the authorization forms so you can easily pass between the districts of the city,” Thek said, pulling away. “You’ll use the papers to to go to the Undercity, where you’ll probably find Mission Vao. She’ll help you break into the Vulkar Garage, where a prototype swoop engine is being kept. It was stolen from the Beks, and we’d like it back.” 

Thek paused, and then grinned again. “We’ll fit that to your bike, and it should help you win the race. Do we have a deal?” Thek held out a large, muscled hand to shake on it, and Cass briefly found himself wondering at the kind of life he’d lived here in the Undercity.

He didn’t contemplate it for long, though, reaching out to grasp the hand, knowing without a doubt that this alliance with the Beks was the right thing to do. 

“You have yourself a deal, Gadon Thek.” 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Cass,” said Carth, as he swung the bag off his shoulders to retrieve the pieces of the Sith Trooper armor. “No offense, Mr. Thek, but I’m not really sure that trying to win a Jedi in a swoop race is a good idea.”

Regardless of his hesitation, he still handed over the armor. 

“None taken, Captain,” Thek said as his guard took the armor, gathering it into her arms and vanishing somewhere else in the base for a moment. “Your friend here seems a bit more of the criminal type anyway. That’s probably why he’s willing to work with us.” 

A moment later, the guard returned with the papers, which she handed to Cass, still looking grim and angry. 

“Good luck, Lieutenant,” said Thek, leaning against the wall. “You’re going to need it.” 

They left with much less fanfare than they’d had upon arrival, Cass turning toward the North, and toward the entrance to the Undercity. He wasn’t looking forward to it, not after he’d heard people above muttering about something called the Rakghoul plague -- a sickness spread through bites and scratches that turned normal people into slavering, mindless cannibal monsters. 

He wasn’t looking forward to having to deal with it. 

“About what I was saying in the Cantina, before… everything happened,” Carth said as they walked, the streets of the Lower City becoming less and less crowded the closer they got to the Undercity. “You don’t really seem like you could have been a smuggler.” 

“What do you mean?” Cass asked, honestly curious. “I didn’t know a smuggler seemed a certain way. We come in all sizes and shapes.” 

“Honestly, this has nothing to do with all the languages you speak,” the Captain said, half a step behind him. “I can see that being a good thing to pick up, but… Well, how do I put this?” He really did seem to be struggling with the words, probably because he was so serious that he was trying to find the perfect way to say them. “You don’t fight like a smuggler.”

“And how do smugglers fight?” Cass asked, feeling… he didn’t know, uncomfortable? Like there was something to what Carth was saying but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. 

“They have chinks in their style. You’ve fought street thugs and spacers before, I’m sure, so you know what it looks like. They don’t fight like soldiers, because they fight based solely on instinct and gumption, and they don’t fight like Jedi, because Jedi always fight like they’re dancing.” Carth ran his hand over his beard again, frowning. 

“And I fight like a soldier?” Cass asked.

“No,” Carth paused, seeming to hesitate. “You… You fight like a Jedi; like you’ve spent your entire life training since you were so young that combat has become a second skin you wear. When you fight, it’s like you’re floating, like nothing could deter you. Jedi are the only people I’ve ever seen who fight like that.” 

Cass froze and looked over his shoulder, staring into Carth’s face. It was pretty obvious Carth was suspicious with the way his dark eyes were narrowed and his lips were drawn into a frown. He shouldn’t be, not after everything they’d been through already, and not after reading Cass’ dossier… Right? 

Semi-stunned into silence, Cass didn’t have a response for the Captain, who continued on with barely a pause for breath. “Not to mention that you transferred at the same time as Bastila. Actually, she requested you be brought aboard the Spire and changed our entire mission the moment you arrived. She wouldn’t tell anyone what she was doing, or why you were suddenly there.”

“I…” Cass began, trying to force his legs to move again. “ I have no idea why any of that is, but I’m not secretly a Jedi. I grew up on Deralia. My father is a farmer, my mother watches trashy romance holos in her spare time, and I was bored growing up on a small planet. Maybe I have some kind of special aptitude for fighting, but I’ve never set foot inside the Jedi Temple in my working memory.” 

“You… You’re being honest.”

Carth seem dumbfounded, but he supposed he couldn’t really blame him, there. 

“You expected me to lie?” Cass asked, arching one of his eyebrows. “No, nevermind. I get it, I’m a charming rogue, and the timing really is strange. It sounds like the Jedi Princess has some things to answer for.”

As they began their slow walk toward the Undercity, Carth basking in sullen silence, Cass was filled with new purpose. More than just his own survival drove him now, now it was personal. 

Cass would get his answers from Bastila Shan, Jedi Princess or not. 


	4. Part One; Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I wouldn't update twice in a week, but there's a friend who means a lot to me who really deserves to have a happy birthday. I know he likes this fanfiction, so this update is for him. 
> 
> Happy Birthday, my friend.

The Undercity smelled like decay, not just that of decaying bodies, but a mixture of death, mulch, and compost. Not the most pleasant of smells, especially not when his sense of smell was sharpened by the utter darkness of the place, the ‘scrapers above creaking, the floor of the Lower City blocking all but the barest hints of the light miles above. 

He had not been expecting there to be people living here. 

As soon as they had arrived, they had been assailed by two vagrants in rags that looked like they had been patched together from dirty tarp begging for credits. Cass gave them credits, even though it might be stolen by other opportunistic exiles, simply because he could see no other peaceful resolution to the conflict at hand. 

Carth looked disgusted, but also pitying -- of course, he had grown up on a world instrumental to the Republic and the Jedi, so he probably didn’t completely grasp the situation most Outer Rim worlds face every day. Outer Rim worlds had their own rules, and those rules didn’t have to adhere to Republic Standards regarding the protection of a species’ or individual’s rights. 

And so you had places like this, places where slavery was legal, where the Hutts ruled, or the Exchange intimidated or bribed the government into seeing things its way. Places where the rich humans profited from the labor of the aliens that they hated, encouraging a system that kept them at the top and their laborers at the bottom, struggling to survive. 

And the Republic didn’t do anything to stop it, and as long as the Galaxy was peaceful he Jedi didn’t care. 

“So what do we do now?” Carth asked as they trudged through a village made of little huts made of scrap metal and mud, the wide-eyed locals staring at them like they were Jedi, that sort of… slack jawed look one got when staring at a legend. 

“We look for Mission,” Cass said in response, nearly tripping over the young woman who suddenly sprang out in front of them. “Kriffing --” 

“I’m sorry!” the young woman immediately said, holding up her hands defensively. “I just… I just heard you say a name I know. I thought maybe if… If I told you what I know, you could…” 

He got a good look at her, looking through the dirt on her face and her matted hair, realizing quickly that she was probably younger than she first appeared, even with as skinny as she was. Cass kneeled before her, just so they were closer to eye level, and then smiled. “What do you need in return? My friend and I would really love your information and we’re sorry if we startled you.” 

She looked into his face, straightened her filthy tarp dress, and cleared her throat. “I’ll tell you what I know about Mission if you tell me what the sky looks like.” 

It almost broke his heart, but he steeled himself and nodded while Carth shifted from foot to foot looking like he was about to crawl out of his skin. “The sky is large, and in the afternoon it’s an endless expanse of blue, on most life bearing worlds. When the systems’s star is rising, it’s quiet colors, like pale blue, pink, or lavender, and when the system’s star is setting it’s like the sky is on fire, and it turns orange, and red, and deep violet. At night, you can see the stars in all the other systems against a backdrop of bluish black, and any satellites a planet has hang in its sky.” 

Her eyes widened, and he wondered what she was imagining, reaching out to take his hand. He let her, her own hand small in his own, so small he felt like he could break her hand if he squeezed too hard. “Mission comes through here looking for things to take back to the surface. She went to the sewers, where the big green men with snouts hide. If you leave the village through the gates, you can probably find her.” 

Big men with the snouts? 

Gamorreans? 

“Thank you,” Cass said as he pulled away from her, his heart aching in his chest to do something more, the more rational voice in the back of his mind telling him that there was  _ nothing to be done _ . 

Not unless he could  **_make_ ** the Republic care, he reasoned, but he was just one man. 

One man who was already on a short rope with the only Republic authority he knew. 

Cass was suspicious, dangerous… apparently, since he fought like a Jedi, a thought that plagued him the more he gave it a foothold in his mind. How could he fight like something he had never been?

Pushing the intrusive thoughts away, Cass pushed onward, squeezing his vibrosword’s hilt in his hand. There was no point on dwelling on something when he was in no position to get answers for himself. 

At the gate, there was a clamour, the sound of a woman sobbing and a man shouting in fear. Automatically, Cass took off at a sprint, his long legs taking him to the gate, half-rusted and ancient as the day was long, watching the human male pressed up against it, his eyes wide in horror as… pale monstrosities approached him. 

“Let me out.” Cass said, taking out his blade, staring at the monsters --  _ rakghouls _ \-- with their razor-toothed mouths and their large, grey eyes. 

“Excuse me? Are you crazy, Upworlder? Do you know what--”

“Every second you talk is a second less your friend has to live,” Cass said, leveling his gaze at the bearded human male next to him. “Now  **_let me out_ ** .” 

It must have been a something in his voice, because the bearded man paled and pressed the button that caused the gates to creep open. Cass practically leapt through, pushing the other human man back through them before falling into stance, sizing up his enemies. 

There were three of them, their limbs unnaturally elongated as they galloped toward him on all fours. Exhaling, he pushed thought from his mind, reminding himself that he always had fought the best when he relied on instinct -- don’t overthink it, feel. These things may be able to infect him with a bite or a scratch, but he would be fine if he didn’t let himself get trapped into thinking about the grate behind him or a possibly impending infection. 

The first rakghoul leapt at him and he went forward, a surge of fear sending a wave of power shivering through him, sending him underneath one beast and past the other two. Spinning just in time to watch the first careen into the barrier, Cass staggered his step and stood his ground, keeping his eyes on the other two creatures, who had already turned to face him. 

The second attacked with an ungodly scream, lunging at him, swiping its savage claws as it continued to barrel forward. Cass stepped slightly to the side and brought his sword clean across the creature’s torso, watching it’s dark blood spill on the ground as it landed face first in the dirt. Turning around, Cass blocked a blow from the third rakghoul, gritting his teeth when it hit harder than he had expected. 

With a grunt, he automatically moved his hand to block the second blow that came from the monster’s other hand. They danced for a moment, Cass giving himself to the tide of battle rather than forcing himself to calculate the creature’s moves, lunging forward to finally skewer the beast on his blade. Its teeth close enough that he could see the bits of rotting flesh in them, Cass let out a cry of rage as he braced the beast against a crumbling pillar and his free hand against its chest, pulling his weapon free. 

Anger still singing through his veins, he turned his attention to the last beast, which was staring at him in a way that suggested some semblance of intelligence. Did it hate him, for killing its friends? Did that make a difference to him? 

Shaking his head of the thought, Cass charged the rakghoul, driving it back toward the gate, cornering it. His teeth bared, he let out another cry as he used all of his strength to decapitate the little monster, pressing his lips tightly together so that he didn’t get its foul blood in his mouth. 

And just like that, the tension drained from him, his arm falling limply to his side, panting heavily. He barely noticed as the gate groaned open, feeling strangely… numb, barely affected by the carnage he had just caused. That alone was cause to bother him, and he quickly sheathed his vibroblade, walking toward the awed Underworlders and Carth. 

“You crazy son of a bitch,” Carth said, reaching out to grab him by the shoulders, for a moment actually looking… worried? Before he burst out laughing. “I can’t… I can’t believe you just…” 

“Look at it this way, Cap,” Cass said, offering Carth a shaky smile. “We know that the rakghouls can be killed.” 

“Upworlders…” 

Both of them looked toward the man with the beard and the other two humans, grasping each other for dear life… a man and a woman. Cass recognized one of the men as the one he had pushed back through the gate, the man who was nearl a rakghoul snack. 

“You… you have done us a great service. No one has ever stopped to… to prevent a mauling before,” the guard stepped up, bowing deeply, the makeshift-spear in his hands pointing skyward. 

“I couldn’t let someone die,” Cass said, looking back out at the world beyond the ramshackle Undercity village. “We have to go back out there to look for Mission Vao. Could you… open the gates again?” 

The bearded man hesitated for a moment. “It’s about to become truly dark. The lights from above the village are about to go darker. My suggestion is that you wait until tomorrow.”   
“Yes, strange Upworlders,” said the man who Cass had saved, finally finding his voice. “Tonight you should share our fires. You saved my life, so you’re entitled to some of our food… and what water we can spare.” 

Cass and Carth exchanged a look, hesitating for a moment. Mission was still out there with the rakghouls and possibly some Gamorreans… on the other hand, though, she had a Wookie with her. She would probably be okay as long as he was close, and though they could clearly defend themselves, it wasn’t a good idea to stumble around in the dark. 

“We accept,” said Cass. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” said the woman, swallowing past her tears and standing straight. “You saved my husband, Upworlder. You and your friend are more than welcome to stay the night. I’ll go ahead and warn Gendar. I’m sure Rukil will regale you all with tales of the Promised Land…” 

And with that, she ambled away, dragging her husband with her by the hand, so relieved that her jaw still trembled with emotion. 

“I have a question,” said Carth, turning his attention on the man with the beard. “Is there a way to… I don’t know… cure this Rakghoul Plague. Do you know?”

The man with the beard shook his head sadly. “No, I do not think so. What I do know is that of all the Upworlders who pass through here, it is only those  in silver and black who return in the same numbers they departed in.”

“The Sith,” Cass said, and then nodded his head. “Thank you for your time, and your kindness. We’ll… We’ll go back to the village.” 

He and Carth ambled back through the darkness of the Undercity, finding themselves back among the little shacks, the villagers looking at them with open gratitude and awe etched on their dirty faces. Cass felt a growing sense of disquiet the more he thought about these people trapped down here at the mercy of the rakghouls and whatever junk they could scavenge from the harsh and barren landscape around them. They must have been here for generations, probably for some perceived crime their ancestors had committed, banished to where they and all their descendants would suffer without end. 

The injustice made his blood boil in his veins, and he fought to keep himself calm, images of all the slaves he’d encountered in his journies rising unbidden to the front of his mind. At their helm was that of a young Cathar woman, scrawny and hungry, her eyes full of the same awe these people looked at him with now, though for the life of him he couldn't remember where he had seen her. 

“Upworlders!” Cass found himself being clasped on the back by a strong hand, staring into the face of a man nearly as tall as he was, bald and dark skinned, a resigned smile on his lips. “I’ve heard good things about you. The communal fire is blazing, and you’re welcome to break bread with us, the first of your people to share food with ours in many long years.” 

Carth quietly shuffled to sit among the people, but Cass lingered, giving the man a long look before he followed the Captain, crossing his long legs beneath him and staring into the flames. Something about it was nostalgic, in a way, though he wasn’t sure what part of him it touched. None of the crews he’d ever served on had been much for campouts out remote worlds, and all the fires he’d seen before this had been in barrels or buildings blazing as they turned to shared durasteel and ash. 

“People of the Undercity,” began the large man, who Cass quickly gathered was Gendar, their leader, “tonight we welcome among us an Upworlder who saved a member of our own. He and his friend will share stories and food with us. Tonight, thanks to their actions, they are a part of our tradition.” 

Everyone seemed to mutter their agreement, eager young faces indistinguishable from the old in their curiosity. Of them all, only Gendar himself looked wary, while the oldest among them affected a quiet sort of curiosity instead, his angular black eyes oddly piercing in spite of how weathered he looked. Cass felt like he was being examined for something, but he wasn’t sure what. 

“Tell us, Upworlders,” said Gendar, leaning back where he was sitting as someone walked around passing out meager amounts of bread -- Cass wondered where they found the flour and the means to raise it. “Why have you come here to the Undercity?” 

“We’re looking for someone,” Cass said. “So we can help someone important escape from the people who have captured her. It’s…” He trailed off, and then relaxed, launching into a story. If they were here to share stories, he would make this a story to remember. “We’re Republic Agents on a mission to save a Jedi.” Cass leaned forward, holding eye contact specifically with the youngest members of the circle for a moment each. “There was a battle over Taris, and we crashed here in our escape pod, and found out that our Jedi has been captured by the Black Vulkars and is going to be sold as a slave at a swoop race.” 

There was a general muttering and he could tell that a few of them had heard of swoop by the way they revved their hands to explain to their children. Everyone’s attention captured, Cass continued, standing as he fully took the stage, gesturing vaguely with his stale bread. “Gadon Thek, leader of the Hidden Beks, told us he would sponsor me as a rider for his gang if we could steal a piece of equipment from the Vulkars. I didn’t have a choice but to agree, because this Jedi is very important. Jedi are always important because they can use the Force, and she’s on a mission to save the Galaxy from the people who threaten to conquer it, the evil Sith.” 

“Like the men in the masks took this world before, years ago?” Asked the young woman who had asked him with the sky had looked like. “I was very small when that happened, but I remember… I remember them driving some of the Upworlders here. One of them had glowswords, like the Jedi are supposed to.” 

Lightsabers… 

“Kind of like this men,” Cass said. “Their leader used to wear a mask like that,” he said, picturing Darth Revan in his mind’s eye, tall and dressed from head to toe in black and red robes. “Now their leader is gone and his apprentice replaced him. They’re here searching for the Jedi, too.” 

“So you’ve come to make the trouble leave our planet.” It was a voice as thin and old as flimsy, and just as brittle, and it caused a hush to fall across the fire. “I sense in you the makings of someone great.” 

Cass looked across the flame to find himself staring into the eyes of the old man, who was still sitting, gazing up into his face calmly. “Perhaps you can help us find the Promised Land. You’ve already proven yourself worthy of our trust by saving one of the people of our village, and showing us kindness.” 

Something flowed through Cass, something familiar and new all at once, as he looked into the old man’s eyes. He couldn’t give voice to the sensation, but it felt like a tugging that began as a pulse in the air around him and bloomed in his chest, a pull and a pop that filled him with a sense of certainty that drowned out all his doubt, silencing it completely without a whisper left in its wake. 

“Perhaps I can,” Cass said, and sat down, crossing his legs underneath him. 

“Yes…” the man seemed to mutter to himself, and Gendar looked nearly ready to interrupt before the man continued again. “You could be the one I have sensed on the fringes of fate for so long. It is you who will lead us to the Promised Land, I know it, a place beyond these dark and grim walls, a place that is green where the sun shines. My father and grandfather came here when they were exiled for questioning the word of the rulers in Taris above. They lost their war and were sent here, but they spoke of such a place, and I believe it to be real.” 

“And how can I help find it?” Cass questioned, knowing that the Promised Land existed even as he spoke. “No,” he stopped himself, running his hand over his stubble -- almost a full beard now. “No. If I find it, I’ll know.” 

No one said anything else about the strange man’s word or their exchanges, and together he and Carth broke bread with the people of the Undercity, who were the kindest people they’d met on Taris yet. They weren’t snooty nobles or callous bounty hunters, and they weren’t well-intentioned gang leaders with ulterior motives. The people here repaid kindness in kind, leaving Cass with the desire to help them. 

That night, they were given a place to sleep near Gendar’s hut, and a small amount of water that Cass used to clean his face and hands of rakghoul blood. The people of the village slowly drifted away, leaving Carth and Cass alone on matts that smelled like mold with only the sounds of Taris creaking above them and each other for company. 

“I can’t decide,” said Carth as they lie side by side, staring up at the metal beams miles above that made the floor of the Lower City, “if I think you’re brilliant or crazy.” 

“Honestly?” Cass said, pulling his legs up to his chest and staring out into the night. “Either can I. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I fought those rakghouls, and I don’t really know if I can help these people find their Promised Land.” 

“Somehow, I believe you can,” Carth said. “What I said before? About you fighting like a Jedi? It… doesn’t bother me as much when I think about how many people it’s going to save, and how many people it already has saved.” Carth sighed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I shouldn’t take my… my issues out on you. You should know that I have a hard time… trusting, because of the war. That’s not your fault.” 

“I forgive you, Carth,” Cass closed his eyes, feeling strange in the gulping darkness of the Tarisian Undercity. “We all have our weaknesses.”

His was rushing into help people, even if there were consequences. Cass had never been able to let well enough alone, which was why he was a soldier now instead of relatively safe on Coruscant, basking in the glow of his last successful haul. He could have been on Corellia by now, visiting some old friends and gathering another crew for a run across a galaxy in peril, evading Sith and Republic along the way. 

Instead he was sitting in near perfect silence with a Republic Captain with a useless commission that he might not live long enough to actually use. 

And yet he didn’t regret any of it. 

“I hope we can help these people, Cass.” Carth said as he rolled over onto his side, facing away from the former freighter pilot. “They deserve better than this. Everyone does.” 

Cass didn’t verbally affirm that he agreed, drifting into a kind of strange unconscious state between sleep and dreams, like a spirit drifting over their camp. 

* * *

 

They set out early the next morning, leaving with the promise to return with reports about what they had discovered on their journey. Cass had every intention of coming back if he found the means to reach this Promised Land, thinking about the old man’s face and the strange sense of calm certainty he’d felt in the wake of his words. 

“Do you have any idea what direction we’re going?” Carth asked, hoisting the straps of his pack higher on his shoulders. “I saw you asking directions earlier this morning.”

“East or west, it doesn’t matter,” Cass said. “Both ways lead to an entrance to the sewers, which is where Mission went.” 

“So we just pick a direction and walk.” Carth said as Cass set off toward the east.

He’d heard that a Republic Escape Pod from the Spire had crashed there, and though he was willing to bet that there were no survivors and that everything had been scavenged off of it, it might still be worth looking at. If other people were searching for the pod, they might find information that could come in handy later, especially with how many people seemed to be involved in the game. 

If  **_they_ ** knew were Bastila was, surely Davik Kang of the Exchange knew, and once he had her, it would only be a matter of time before the Sith had her. 

The only solution was to win her off the Vulkars, who might just decide that Kang was the more profitable option if they didn’t hurry. 

There were only a few encounters with rakghouls on their way across the Undercity, which was deceptively large, before they received an unexpected bit of assistance from a man in red and black trooper armor. He was followed by a small group of Sith, and looked them over with a critical eye as he dropped his blaster rifle and walked toward them. 

“You must be the scavengers command hired,” he said. “Bad news, boys, the wreckage has been picked clean. We found it while looking for the lost troop. Didn’t see anything, but you can bet the rakghouls got them.” 

Carth, frozen in place, seemed unable to say anything to the Sith Trooper, something Cass was suddenly grateful for. He had the feeling that Carth wasn’t a very good actor, and he’d really rather not risk their necks when bloodshed could be avoided, in this case. 

“Roger that, sir,” Cass said, not quite standing at attention, but showing as much respect as a hired scavenger might be required to show. “Probably gonna take a look-see for ourselves, at the wreckage, but if we find the troop while we’re down here, you want us to bring the weapons back to base?” 

“Negative,” the commander said. “Don’t bother. If you find them, keep the weapons. Consider them payment, because you’re not likely to bring anything back from the wreckage and they’re probably better than whatever peashooters you boys have.” 

“Probably,” Cass agreed with a shrug. “Let no one say the Sith are heartless. Thanks for the tip, sir.” 

The commander waved them off. “Come on, boys, let’s go back to base. I think we’ve earned it, after everything we’ve been through tonight.” 

Cass didn’t wait to watch them go, his footsteps renewed with purpose. “If we can find those bodies,” he said to Carth, “we can find that serum, the one that cures the Rakghoul Plague. We can give some to the people of the Undercity, and if we take it to the right hospital up top…”

“Are you really going to try to solve all the Galaxy’s problems?” Carth asked, following along, his voice an almost amusing tone of exasperated. “Cass, we need to find Mission. I want to help the people here as much as you do, but we don’t have time to waste, not a single second.” 

“This is important, Carth,” Cass said, stopping in his tracks and looking back over his shoulder. “I can’t explain why, and I… I need to do it. I just have this feeling that if I don’t, something bad will happen.” 

“Feeling? Cass, it would be one thing if you were a Jedi, but you’re some Smuggler from Deralia who ran away from home to hit it big on Coruscant. You’ve spent half your life on Nar Shaddaa, for krif’s sake.”  He rubbed his hand over his face and leaned back his head. “Listen, I have faith that you know what you’re doing, even if your methods are… unorthodox, but this is different. This is… If we happen to stumble upon some means to get to the Promised Land or trip over the Sith corpses, that’s one thing, but to hunt for them on purpose? We don’t know how much time we have before the Vulkars decide that they want to give Bastila to the Exchange of the Sith!” 

Cass wanted to argue, but he couldn’t think of a good argument that didn’t rely on his intangible feeling or the fact that it was simply the  _ right thing to do _ . For a moment, he buried his face in his hands and took a few, deep breaths, before he nodded, feeling a sense of loss wash over him for reasons he couldn’t entirely explain.

“ **Fine** .”

“Fine?” 

“We’ll do it your way. Let’s…Let’s just go.” 

Carth gave him a strange look, tugged idly at his beard, and then took point while Cass lagged behind. The feeling, however, remained, the more insistent the farther east they walked, tugging at the back of Cass’ conscious mind, a pull that almost felt physical, drawing him toward a certain direction. 

Still, Carth was right. How could he even consider abandoning their quest for Bastila to hunt for cures to the Rakghoul Plague or the secrets of the Undercity? There was more at stake here than just the people who lived here; the entire Galaxy could be at risk if Bastila wasn’t returned to the Jedi. It wasn’t right to forsake the Galaxy for a personal quest. 

Another part of him, agreeing with the pull, argued that if he could spare the time, he should. If he couldn’t even help the people in front of him, what was the point of trying to protect the Galaxy? Abandoning the Undercity’s people would make him a hypocrite of the worst kind. 

Finally, the pull grew too powerful to ignore and he set off at a brisk pace beyond a man who technically should have been his commanding officer as the senior most surviving crewmember of the Endar spire. Cass had never been good at following orders, though, or even his own advice. 

When it came to his instincts, he always them, and he saw no reason to stop now. 

“Wa-- Cass?” Carth was calling after him, but Cass was already heading towards the north east, his steps increasing in speed until he was sprinting, the sounds of a battle drawing closer as he ran. 

It was when he skirted left around a support pillar that he saw them, the mercenary men fighting a group of rakghouls, beyond them a pile of bodies -- Sith bodies. Behind him, he could hear Carth’s footsteps grind to a halt and the sudden hum of blasters as they buzzed to life. 

“Good ears.” 

Cass said nothing, loosing his blade from its sheath and listening to the sound as it began to vibrate, charging into the fray without another thought. 


	5. Part One; Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're really starting to get into it, now.

The first rakghoul didn’t see him coming, and he was able to easily stab it through the gut, wasting no time as one of the other rakghouls turned to him, abandoning its victim as he fell to his knees, dead. 

Probably a kinder fate than the alternative, all things considered. 

The creature advanced on him, swiping for him with its claw, which he deflected with his blade. Bouncing back on the balls of his feet, Cass jumped away from the second swipe and then leapt forward, catching the monster off-guard enough that it stumbled backwards in shock; prey probably wasn’t supposed to be this proactive. 

“Come on!” He hissed through his teeth, lashing out with blade and catching the beast across the chest because of his reach alone. “It’s like chopping vegetables. You have to do better than that!” 

The beast shrieked in pain, but didn’t seem to have a response for him as he drove forward, holding his mouth into a painfully thin white line as he cut it in half. At that precise moment, a pair of shots rang out, one after the other. Cass found himself spinning, the rakghoul that had crept up behind without him noticing lying dead on the ground with blaster holes in its head and chest, still smoking. 

He glanced to Carth, who offered him a grim smile as the last rakghoul fell with a roar, a bolt of energy from some sort of close range blast rending it nearly in two. 

“ _ Haar’chak _ !” Spat a voice as rough as a dewback’s hide in fluent Mando’a. “Those kriffing rakghouls, ruining the mission. Half my men are dead now.” The man spoke in a heavily accented voice, marking him immediately as a Mandalorian. “To hell with it! The scavengers have already picked up everything worth having.” 

Thankfully, Carth seemed too stunned to make any comments, allowing Cass to run interference. 

“You,” the Mandalorian said, turning his attention on them. “You fight well, not that we have time to discuss it. Those things swarm.” 

“Just… one question, before you go,” Cass said, motioning to the Sith. “Did you kill them, or did you find them like that?” 

“You think I have claws?” The man arched his eyebrows high and then snorted, the sound followed by a wry chuckle -- not odd coming from a burly and battled scarred Mandalorian with greying hair and sharp, pale eyes. “I found them that way, stranger. Whatever they have on their bodies is yours. Like I said, this was a bust.” 

He swung his large blaster cannon over his shoulder with ease, the hissing of magnets sealing it to his back. “Anything else? I can probably afford to answer a few more questions since you helped kill the damn things.” 

“No,” Cass said, turning toward the bodies, absently mindedly adding a farewell in Mando’a. “ _ Ret'urcye mhi _ .” 

“Maybe we will,” said the man in a voice more amused than anything as he motioned toward his remaining men, walking off into the distance, back toward the lift. 

All was silent for a moment, Carth likely still too stunned to speak, as Cass looted the bodies, a grin splitting his face when he found serum on each of the fallen Sith, four in all. This… This was exactly what he had been looking for. 

Maybe… the Force was with him?

“That… was weird.” Carth said as Cass stood, rubbing the back of his neck, his brow furrowed so deeply that he looked like he had aged ten years. “You speak Mando’a?” 

“I don’t know where I learned it,” Cass admitted. “But I speak so many languages that’s not a surprise. After awhile you forget why you decided to learn a language in the first place.” Looking toward the east, Cass could see a grate and then the shadowy depths of an opening, likely leading to the sewers. It felt strange, that everything had worked out this well, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it just that moment, the distant screeching of rakghouls drawing his mind away from the serum for the time being. 

“Come on, Carth,” Cass said. “It’s like the Mandalorian said -- They swarm.” 

As it turned out, they were ambushed, but not by rakghouls. 

Instead, a blue Twi’lek almost flew at them from the opening into the sewers, intercepting them, her face simultaneously panicked and determined. “You!”  She grabbed Cass’ wrist desperately, with no clear intention of letting go. “Flyboy! You have to help me!” 

“Mission?” Cass asked, clearing his head by shaking it as he looked down into her eyes. “What is it? What do you need?” 

“It’s Big Z!” She said, trying to tug him toward the entrance of the sewers, only succeeding when he began to follow her. “He’s been taken by Gamorrean slavers!” She cast a desperate look over her shoulder, and for a moment Cass thought she almost looked her age, her eyes large and almost tearful with terror. “Please, Flyboy, I don’t know why you’re here, but you’ve got to help! He’s the only friend I have left!” 

“Wait, Mission, calm down,” Carth said, and the girl froze in place, looking into the soldier’s eyes. “You said he was taken by  **_slavers_ ** ?” 

“Wookies are used in spice mines or as gladiators in illegal fighting circuits,” Cass said in response. “We should help, even if we  _ didn’t _ need her to help sneak us into the Vulkar base.”

“I’ll sneak you into the base if you help me find Big Z, just… Just  _ come on _ ,”  she hissed through her teeth. “We don’t have any time to waste.” 

Carth didn’t bother to argue, which was all the same. Cass didn’t think he was the sort of person to ignore suffering when it was happening right in front of him, which was a good thing. The Republic really needed more officers who gave a kriff about the suffering of innocent people. 

So it was that Cass, Carth, and Mission descended into the sewers, creeping along corrugated metal bridges suspended above the waste. As one would expect, it was dimly lit and smelled horrible, but even worse is that it was in a clear state of disrepair. He’d been in quite a few sewers in his life, by circumstance or necessity, and this one was practically falling apart, the walls dented, what light there was flickering erratically. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise that the Tarisian officials didn’t take care of their infrastructure when they didn’t even know how to take care of their people. 

“What happened, Mission?” Carth asked her as Cass took point, vibroblade out and humming through the darkness, echoing off the wall. 

“Big Z pushed me out of the room because the Gamorreans were trying to take me,” Mission said, her voice wavering only a little on the last word. “I ran as hard and fast as I could, but he hasn’t been answering his comm, so I know -- I know he has to have been taken…”

“Deep breaths,” Carth said. “It’s going to be okay. We’ve taken on gangsters and rakghouls, we can take out some slavers, too.” 

“I’m not worried about whether or not you can do it,” Mission said. “I wouldn’t have asked if I thought you were a couple of chumps. Besides, I got a comm from Gadon.” She took a few quick steps and fell in beside Cass. “I know who you are, and I know what you’re here for.” 

She didn’t say anything for a moment, her worry probably stealing her words. Cass couldn’t blame her, not with everything that happened -- he himself was starting to feel strung out and tired, stretched too thin over the last several days. 

If they ever did make it off this rock, he was going to spend the entire journey to whatever Jedi Enclave they went to sleeping. 

“This way,” Mission said, leading them sharply left where the sound of moving water grew louder. “The slavers have their headquarters down here, and the rakghouls like to crawl around, especially when the lights go out. I spent all night hiding in a room with some really old corpses behind some old metal barrels.”

“Doesn’t exactly sound like a five star experience.” 

Mission snorted. “Nothing on Taris is five star, Flyboy. Not unless you go to the Upper City.” 

“No offense, Mission, but not even the Upper City is five star. Trust me,” Cass watched as Carth’s hands fingered the pistols at his sides. “Taris is an Outer Rim slum world. It’s nothing compared to one of the Core Worlds.” 

“Be careful, Carth -- this is  **_HER_ ** Outer Rim slum world.” Cass said, holding up a hand when he saw a shadow moving along the wall in the next corridor. “Stay behind me.”

Carth was the worst at softening his footsteps, but with his heavy soled boots, Cass wasn’t really that surprised. Together, the moved as quietly as the could to the end of the corridor, where Cass could hear the tell-tale grunting and squealing of Gamorreans arguing about something. It seemed they had stumbled across their slaver’s little sewer camp after all. 

“Plan of attack, Flyboy?” Mission asked, grabbing something from her side; a small pistol that hummed to life underneath her touch. 

“I go in first to draw fire,” he said. “Carth follows it up, and you… you try to see if  there’s a door or something leading to any place they could use as a holding cell.”

Thank the Force that Carth never questioned anyone putting him, the Junior Officer, in charge. 

He supposed he was technically better equipped to handle this situation, being an ex-criminal, and all, he thought as he dove out from behind the cover of a wall, brandishing his blade in his left hand. The Gamorreans saw him and screamed in rage, wrinkling their porcine snouts as they charged him, brandishing vibroaxes. 

It was going to take more than that to turn him into cold cuts. 

Cass deflected a blow, sending the massive pig man stumbling backwards as he was caught off guard, enough for the shots Carth fired off to hit the Gamorrean in the arms. He squealed again as he dropped his axe, leaving him open to more shots from either Carth or Mission, allowing Cass to change his focus to a different Gamorrean. 

He could see now that there were quite a few of them advancing who had been out of sight around the bend when he’d formulated his plan of attack. There were at least three Gamorreans for every one of them, putting the odds squarely in the slaver’s favor; or would, if Gamorreans weren’t known galaxy-wide for their inability to think critically. 

“Look alive!” he shouted to Carth over his shoulder. “We’re in for a hell of a fight.” 

Using his height to his advantage, Cass deflected a high blow downward, the Gamorrean’s axe deflecting off the metal grate below, the recoil making him drop the axe, which bounced upward and sliced through the arm of one of the others behind him. He couldn’t have planned that better if he had tried. 

“That’s putting it lightly!” Cass heard Carth shout back, and glanced toward the left to find Carth being backed into a corner. “You have a vibrosword!” 

“Use your body, Carth!” Cass said, stabbing the disarmed Gamorrean through the chest. “You learned to fight in military school, didn’t you?”

“Says the guy who dances around the battlefield like a Jedi Knight,” he heard Carth growl as he kicked a Gamorrean in a chest, knocking him into another Gamorrean. 

“Flyboy! Captain Galaxy! I’ve got the door open, if you’d quit arguing for two seconds!” Said Mission’s voice over the cacophony of battle as Carth shot one of the Gamorreans through the forehead. 

“Fall back,” Carth hissed, sending off a few warning rounds and sending the Gamorreans scattering. 

Cass continued to deflect blows as the other two backed through the now open door, smashing the panel Mission had sliced before diving through himself, watching the door fall shut on one of the Gamorrean’s hands. He screamed in agony, and then a second later keened his death cry as his companions cut off his hand; much like his armless companion, he’d probably bleed out. 

“Well that was a nice workout,” Cass said, listening to the futile banging on the other side of the door, looking around the cell… and finding himself face to face with a Wookie. “Oh. Uh… Mission?”

Mission had already noticed and was working on removing the cuffs around the Wookie’s massive wrists. “It’s okay, Big Z, Flyboy and Captain Galaxy here helped save you. If it weren’t for them…” 

The Wookie looked toward Cass and growled a thank you, rubbing his wrists as Mission managed to get them free from the cuffs. 

“Don’t mention it. I did what anyone should do when they hear about slavers taking innocent people away from their homes,” Cass shrugged. “I couldn’t leave you with those pigs.” 

The look Carth gave him was well worth the last sentence, but the Wookie laughed, so at least someone appreciated his jokes. 

Zalbaar, freed, paced the room for a moment, then turned his attention back to Cass. There was a curious look on his face, one that Cass couldn’t quite place, not that he was a master of Wookie facial expressions in the first place. 

It was only when Zalbaar bowed his head and crossed an arm over his chest that Cass realized exactly what he’d gotten into. 

“Zalbaar--”

The Wookie cut him off with a sharp look while Carth stood around looking confused. It’s not like he understood Shyriiwook, because really, most people didn’t. Cass and Mission were just lucky enough to be able to understand it. 

Before Cass could say anything else, Zalbaar was pledging a lifedebt to him, asking that he accept a lifetime of service in return for his act of kindness. Cass wanted to object, to tell Zalbaar that they still needed Mission’s help, but he had just finished telling the Wookie that he would have saved anyone in that situation. So he watched Zalbaar swear service to him, and then, with a heavy sigh, he nodded and accepted it.

“I would be honored, Zalbaar, to have you at my side.” 

There was a quiet moment in which Zalbaar uncrossed his arm from his chest and Cass turned away from him, resolved to make nothing of the lifedebt, to treat it like a friendship. The idea of anyone being obligated to serve him was vaguely uncomfortable to him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint why, though another part of him screamed that Zalbaar had given his life willingly and that he should honor the debt by taking advantage of it. 

He tended to ignore that part of himself. 

“Good thing there’s another way out of here,” Mission said from the other side of the room, cutting into Cass’ thoughts. “And… yeah… I recognize where we are from here. Can we stop by my hidey hole? I have a weapon there that Big Z can use, and then I can take you to the Vulkar’s base.” 

Even Carth didn’t seem too inclined to disagree with her, probably because he figured a Wookie with a weapon would be even better than a Wookie without one, which was a pretty good assumption. 

Mission and Zalbaar went on ahead through the quiet sewer while Carth and Cass hung back, letting her take point now that she was the one giving them more specific directions. Besides, it was only polite to let her catch up with her best friend. They didn’t say much of anything, not for a minute, anyway, before Carth’s voice interrupted the sound of sluggish waters and echoing footsteps. 

“Listen, about your instincts,” Carth began, “I'm sorry for doubting them. It turns out they’re pretty uncanny, even if this does feel a bit like one big detour.” 

“Smuggler's luck,” Cass said with a shrug. “And buck up, Captain. We’re back on track now, and on our way to saving your Jedi Princess. It won’t be long until she’s here with us, vetoing our good ideas and getting us into trouble with her Jedi powers.” 

“You’re really not a fan of the Order, are you?” Carth asked, still clearly skeptical that anyone could be mistrustful of the Jedi. “But here you were, helping to find her anyway.” 

“That’s because you’re right, Carth. She’s our best ticket out of here, and the entire reason this blockade exists in the first place. We can probably use her as bait to get the Sith to chase us, not that that’s necessarily a good thing,” he said with another shrug. “We could get away if we had a good freighter, which means we might have to steal one in the name of Galactic Peace.” 

Cass sighed as he watched Mission and Zalbaar duck into the little service and storage room where she must have stayed the night. Looking back at Carth over his shoulder before he followed them, he offered up more of his opinion. “Besides, I want answers from her highness just as much as you do, Carth. You don’t seem to trust me very much, and I’m sure you have your reasons for being paranoid. Just assume I have my reasons for not liking Jedi, and we’ll call it even, okay? No prying into your past if you don’t pry into mine.” 

Carth seemed to consider it a moment before he nodded. “Fine. I can live with that, as long as we can work together well enough to leave this place behind us.” 

“Then it’s a deal,” Cass said as he ducked into half-closed doorway, finding himself in a small room that rakghouls and slavers alike were sure to overlook. 

Mission and Zalbaar were in a corner, picking up a few things, leaving Cass time to examine the bodies in the corner, which were little more than skeletons dressed in rags now. One of them, though, had a bag tossed over its shoulder, which he rummaged through out of curiosity, finding a datapad, almost recoiling when he realized what he was reading. 

“Well,” he said, tossing the datapad to Carth, who caught it, his eyebrows arching progressively higher the more he read. “It looks like we found a map to the Promised Land.” 

“What are you two talking about?” Mission asked, standing from where she had been kneeling on the ground, walking over to Cass to press a belt into his hands. 

“Mr. Good Galactic Citizen over there agreed to help the Underworlders find a way to their mythical promised land,” Carth said as Cass examined the belt, finding several frag detonators attached to it. “It turns out the Promised Land does exist, and is probably the only green place left on the entire damn planet.” 

“What is it?” Mission asked, reaching for the datapad, which Carth almost certainly reflexively held out of her reach. 

“Ground zero for the Tarisian settlement centuries ago,” he responded. “An underground city that was rediscovered shortly before the Tarisian Civil War destroyed the planet, and then lost again in the chaos. This journal… It says how to reach it.” 

“What? Really? You have to give that to the Underworlders,” Mission said, bracing a hand against the half-closed door. “In fact, we should stop there before we go to the Vulkar base. It’ll be faster to get there if we walk over land because it’s closer to the other entrance. It’s a maze down here.”

Zalbaar agreed as he ducked out of the room, Mission following him as Carth handed the datapad back to Cass. Carth gave him a significant look but said nothing, turning to follow Mission and her Wookie best friend out into the corridors. 

Cass lingered for a moment, staring down at the small datapad in his hands, feeling the weight of its significance in his palms. Around him, that feeling seemed to sing through him, a phantom sensation creeping up his back, the echo of a memory that he couldn’t quite grasp. He could almost feel the ghost of some forgotten body of water lapping at the back of his knees, and the weight of something larger and more solid than a datapad grasped between his hands, staring up at him as if it had a face of its own.

Shaking himself of the sensation, he followed his team back into the sewers, trying to push the not-memory from his mind. 

* * *

The Underwolrders greeted their discovery joyously and almost immediately began to pack for their long journey across the wastes of the Undercity. Cass had gifted them with two vials of the serum, as well, explaining how to use it and how to dose people who might become infected with the Rakghoul Plague.

By the time they were heading toward the western sewer entrance, the Underworlders had packed up their entire world and were ready to leave. The girl who asked about the sky, the woman whose husband he had saved, and the old man, who he had learned was Rukil, all insisted on giving him long hugs. 

“You have great journey ahead of you, young man,” said Rukil, clasping a wizened hand on Cass’ shoulder, his skin thin and papery with age. “I do not know the details, but I do know that my faith in you was well placed. I believe that means something.” 

Cass didn’t really have time to ask what the old man meant before Gendar was calling Rukil away, likely to help with navigation. He just watched the old man go, turning his attention back to the task at hand once he was gone.

He had promised himself he wasn’t going to think about any of the weird desh happening to him until he could corner Bastila about it. 

It didn’t take them long to reach the obvious entrance to the Vulkar’s base, protected by an expensive energy shield that reminded Cass that Brejik was probably on Davik Kang’s payroll. Mission had lifted the code off of a Vulkar who had been killed by the rakghouls, and easily gained them access to the section of the sewers that they would need to access to go up into the Vulkar’s Base.

“I should warn you,” Mission said. “This isn’t the safest way to go. Both ways are stupid, but this way has a rancor.” 

“A rancor, Mission, really?” Carth’s voice was almost breathless. “How the kriff are we supposed to get past a rancor?” 

Cass’ finger idly brushed against the grenades on his belt and an idea occurred to him, a lopsided smile splitting his face in two. “Don’t worry, Captain,” he said, “I have an idea or two on how to fell a rancor, just stay behind me.” 

“Are you serious?” Carth’s mouth fell open a little bit and he turned to Zalbaar. “Is he serious?”

Zalbaar shrugged. 

“I”m serious. Just trust that I know what I’m doing, Carth. I’ve fought things as big as rancors before,” he said. “Ever had to wrangle exotic animals for a Hutt Boss?” He didn’t wait for Carth to respond. “Then don’t underestimate the value of a good frag grenade.” 

As it turned out, the Rancor wasn’t that far away, patrolling a large, long corridor littered with the bones of the numerous people and things that it had eaten in its quest to fill the gnawing hunger it surely faced. Thankfully, the corridor that lead up to it was steep and narrow, difficult for even long rancor arms to navigate around, making it the perfect place to hide. 

“Stay here,” Cass said, sliding down the steep slope to quickly check where the rancor was standing, which turned out to be within an arm’s throw, thank the Force. 

Quietly, Cass slid one of the frag grenades from his belt and activated it, slipping from around the corner to toss it at the massive mottled grey and brown beast, its long claws dyed brown with dried blood, its razor sharp teeth likely the same, though it wasn’t facing Cass. 

It would be in a second, though. 

Cass very quickly ducked around a corner, hugging himself against the wall the moment the explosion sounded and the beast called out in rage, knowing that rancors had bad vision in the light and could see much better in complete darkness. If it detected movement, it would come lumbering after him, but if not… 

He waited for a few heartbeats, forcing himself to breathe evenly before he turned around the corner and lobbed another grenade at the wounded rancor. It was a brutal tactic, one that ripped large gashes in even the rancor’s thick hide, if only because the grenade sent shrapnel in every which direction, and it required patience, but in the end it paid off. 

The rancor crumpled to the ground, massive corpse twitching erratically until it finally lay still. 

“Coast is clear,” Cass said, motioning to his three companions, who still stood up above him on the slope. “I took the thing out with the grenades Mission had. It’s a shame, really -- I wish we wouldn't have had to kill it since it’s probably being starved by these gangsters, but its sense of smell is too good to sneak past it.” 

Zalbaar agreed, walking toward the rancor corpse first, Cass right behind him. Carth seemed more cautious, and Mission seemed to be amused by his caution, ribbing him about something that Cass couldn’t hear. It didn’t really matter to him much, either, not with the sense of anticipation suddenly pulsing through him as they walked toward the unguarded backdoor of the Vulkar base. 

He guessed Brejik thought the rancor would be enough of a guardian. 

Together, they rode the elevator up to the Vulkar’s base, finding it quiet and cold, only the sound of the air conditioning and the clack of the patrol droid’s metal feet against the metal floor bothering accompanying the sound of their breathing. It smelled a lot better than the sewers, even if it smelled like a mixture of duracrete, blasteel, and the vague ozone smell engines tended to produce. 

“Right, so,” Cass said softly. “My guess is that we’re on a different floor than the garage,” he said. “And if the engine is in the shop, which should be by the garage, it’s not here.” 

“Good thinking, genius,” Mission said, only half sarcastic. “I’m not much of a slicer,” she motioned toward the base, “but if you want to know how to get around the place, find a computer and upload a map to your comm. Then you can navigate the area more easily.” 

“Or we could find someone and force them to give us directions,” Carth said with a shrug. “It’s not elegant, but it’s direct.”

Zalbaar grumbled his displeasure at that plan. 

“Big Z is right, Captain Galaxy, that plan’s awful. We’d alert the entire base to our presence. We should get in, get the engine, and then get out.” 

“And how big is the engine? Just how do you think we’re going to carry it out of here if we don’t take out the people on base?” Carth countered. 

“If we take out the people on base, they’ll call for reinforcements, Carth,” Cass interjected. “Brejik’s probably not on base right now. If I were him, I’d be with my Big Prize, so he’s in whatever secure location the Princess is in with his top lieutenants. This is the perfect time to sneak out an engine -- no one’s here. Besides,” Cass glanced toward the Wookie. “I’m sure Zalbaar can carry the engine. He’s a lot stronger than the rest of us.” 

The Wookie agreed with him, and Mission nodded. 

“Right, so our plan is to somehow sneak into this garage and escape while killing as few people as possible.” Carth sighed. “I guess it’s not like we have a strike team to back us up. Lead on.” 

Cass had been in a lot of bases like this before. 

Criminals liked to use warehouses to run their operations out of, and because he had worked so often with criminals, he was pretty sure he knew where he was going. It didn’t take him long to find an unattended terminal in a large, open area that served as staging for their operations.

Motioning for the other three to cover him, he immediately set about trying to slice the system -- It wasn’t his sharpest skill, like stealth, but he could do it if he were pressed, and right now, he was pressed. Even if he had to use a dataspike to help him, the encryption on the gangster’s computer wasn’t that tight. To be honest, they probably couldn’t afford better. 

It didn’t take him long to look through the area’s cameras and find the location of the engine, the only place under any kind of heavy guard… It was on the floor below them, which was guarded by auto turrets that he quietly disabled as he thought about how to divert the attention of the guard. 

“Droids,” he said to himself, peeling away from the turret and running down the hallway toward the storage room, leaving his companions to run after him. “I can use the droids.” 

If they called for him, he didn’t hear them, skidding to a stop in front of the deactivated droids, waiting on maintenance. He may be bad at slicing, but one thing Cass was really good at, had always been good at, was droid maintenance and repair. If it was broke and it was mechanical, he could probably fix it. 

Quickly, quietly, while Carth and the others shuffled into the room, Cass focused on reprogramming the droids, and then sent them shuffling off to cause havoc on the base. Nothing violent, just enough to make it look like a simple chip malfunction, nothing that would be apparent until the guards could corral the droids and examine them, but enough to buy them time. 

As the tall, metal patrol droids left the room to go sabotage the base, Cass grinned after them, Carth staring at him with a tired expression while Mission and Zalbaar both looked confused. 

“What is it this time, Cass? Some kind of feeling? A brilliant epiphany?” Carth looked back through the door to check if anyone was walking past. “Would you like to share with the class?” 

“It’s a distraction, Carth,” Cass said as he walked past him. “One we should waste. Come on, I bet the guards on the shop are starting to disperse. We should find a place to lay low and wait for them to come up here.” 

“Great. And do you have a brilliant plan for sneaking back out?” Carth asked. “We have to carry that engine through the sewers and past a rancor corpse, Cass--”

“No, the exit on this level leads to the Lower City. We can just go out through the front door, and if anyone asks, Brejik has asked for the engine and we’re delivering it to him. I bet not even his own agents know where he is.” Cass shrugged. “There’s another storage room around the corner, one with boxes they won’t check -- now come on.” 

“Will wonders never cease,” Cass heard Carth mutter as they moved to the next room, hunkering low behind some boxes, Carth and Zalbaar squeezed in on one side of the room while Mission and Cass took the other. 

“So are you always this… erratic, Flyboy? Or are you just nervous?” Mission asked in a voice quiet enough to suggest that she was used to hiding and talking at the same time; probably helped pass the hours. 

“No, not nervous,” Cass leaned back against the crate. “This is a pretty much a normal Taungsday for me, breaking into the bases of gangsters to loot one very specific item so I can rescue a Jedi Knight by winning a high stakes swoop race for a different group of gangsters.” 

Mission snorted. “Right. Actually, I wouldn’t be that surprised. You seem to have brought the trouble with you. The Lower City is always  _ dangerous _ , but it wasn’t this _ exciting _ until you showed up.” 

“It’s the Jedi,” Cass shrugged. “Jedi bring trouble with them everywhere. I’m just along for the ride at this point, though there might be something to what you’re saying… Before all of this, I was a smuggler.” He chuckled softly. “Maybe I’m just lucky.” 

“I wouldn’t call it luck, but I get where you’re coming from,” Mission said. “You and I are a lot alike, Flyboy, two cunning rogues dodging punches and turning the garbage shoved our way into a profitable scavenging business.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, closing his eyes and listening to the sound of the base around them. “Yeah, we probably do.”

“Good thing, too,” she said. “I need a mentor, someone with more years of experience than me to teach me to do the things I can’t learn by being stuck on Taris. It’s my home, ya know? But there comes a time in every young woman’s life where she has to strike out on her own, and since you’re stuck with Big Z…” 

“I’m stuck with you,” he said, flashing her a smile as the sound of footsteps moved passed the storage room. “Don’t worry, Mission. I’m sure you’ll learn a lot of things from me. I’m… Well, we’ll discuss it later. Right now, let’s get that engine.” 

Cass stood, Mission hot on his heels, taking the sharp right down the hallway, past the disabled auto turrets, which he presumed the guards had not noticed as they must have thought their own access privileges had disabled them. Down the elevator they went, into the great empty garage, moving as quickly as they could through the now empty corridors, slipping into the shop without a sound. 

“There’s a field around the engine,” Carth said as they approached. “I can feel it, can’t you? The static…” 

“Oh there’s a field for sure,” Mission said as she took a step back. “My lekku are twitchy.” 

Zalbaar grumbled his agreement, but asked Cass what he thought should be done. Cass could tell he and Zalbaar were going to get along -- Zalbaar was a level headed kind of guy. 

“Just hold on,” Cass said, stepping forward to mess with the machine that was used to generate the containment field. “They use things like this to protect weapons caches, usually. That and frag mines. Once the interference is gone we should be able to disarm them and take the engine.” 

He messed around with the terminal for a bit, listening as the shield powered down and Mission went to work disarming a few of the mines, Zalbaar hoisting the engine into his arms. 

“Okay, we’re almost done with this heist,” Mission said, walking forward to tap carth on the arm. “Lead the way, Captain Meatshield.” 

“That’s-- Wow. I can’t believe--” Carth sighed heavily and then loosed his guns from their holsters. “Fine. I’ll let you pick on me if we just start moving out.” 

Chuckling under his breath, Cass took point instead of Carth, leading them out of the base, a surprisingly uneventful task. Even the front of the base was more or less abandoned, but as they traveled through the Lower City, engine in tow, Cass realized that it was because the sun was setting high above them, and the Lower City was being cast into shadows. 

Thankfully, it didn’t take them long to reach the Bek’s base, even carting an engine in tow. In fact, it was probably only because everyone else was inside, and because they had been incredibly lucky thus far, that they managed to make it there at all. 

Once inside, they were greeted by Gadon’s guard, who took one look at them, wrinkled her nose, and motioned for someone else to come and take the engine away from them. “That’s it, then? I guess you proved yourself after all,” she said. “Gadon will want to talk to you, racer. The rest of you? There are showers in the back and a change of clothes for you to sleep in. Get out of that, because it smells like sewage.”

“Talk to you later, Flyboy!” Mission shouted over her shoulder as she walked away, Zalbaar almost reluctantly trudging after her. 

Carth simply looked relieved that he was finally going to get to sleep in an actual bed, half saluting Cass as he turned to go. 

“This way, Mr. Racer,” the guard said, motioning for him to follow. “It’s time for your debriefing.” 


	6. Part One; Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters of Taris after this one, guys. Can't tell you how glad I am to finally be leaving this planet behind me, though it's going to keep getting brought up. 
> 
> They're only here for a proper Star Wars week (five days), but it has a huge impact on Cass.

“So you kept your word,” Gadon Thek said, sitting down in a chair, a holovid playing in front of him. “I didn’t think you would break it, but it’s good to meet someone competent enough to keep their promises.”

“I would say that it’s because I’m an agent of the Republic, but I think we both know that’s not true,” Cass said, sitting down in a chair a few feet away from him. 

“No, it’s not.” Thek agreed, leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling with his unseeing eyes. “You didn’t strike me as a Republic official, at least, not one like your friend. There’s something about you that seems familiar,” the Bek’s boss shrugged. “You remind me a bit of a kid who helped out the resistance on Taris once, Carrick. He was going to be a Jedi. You have that feeling to you.” 

“You’re not the first person to say that,” Cass said with a shrug. “I’m used to it now, though I promise I’m not a Jedi. I’m… I used to be a smuggler, before all of this.” 

“Not surprised,” the man said with a shrug. “You walk like someone who knows he can get what he want if he just acts the right way and says the right things. Smugglers are street smart like that. It’s not a shock to me that you lived that life.” 

There was a moment of silence between them, Cass staring at his hands, listening to the sound of Thek breathing. He didn’t know what to say; of course he’d had to be resourceful. Once he’d left Deralia, he’d found the Galaxy a harder place than he had ever imagined. Cass hadn’t realized how sheltered he’d been until he finally left, and… 

Well, a lot of his innocence had been lost in the darker places of the Galaxy, on Nar Shaddaa and the lower sectors of Coruscant. 

“Ever rode swoop before?” Thek asked. “It’s not hard. If you’ve ridden any kind of speeder, you can ride swoop, they’re just… faster.” He paused. “A lot faster. I’ll be honest with you, kid, half the reason I want you to ride in the race is because the experimental engine is too dangerous for me to risk any of my guys on.” 

“I understand. From what I’ve gathered, you and the Beks are the only thing thing standing  between the Lower City and complete chaos. I just want my Jedi, not to get involved in politics,” Cass leaned forward in his chair. “And don’t worry about me, I can manage a swoop.” 

“You have the feel of a guy who can,” Thek voiced his agreement. “In fact, I bet you’re pretty good at most things you put your mind to. Heard you caused some kind of revolution in the Undercity -- word gets around fast on Taris, especially when we’ve been trapped in a bottle by the Sith.” 

“It’s not a revolution, they’re just moving on to a better place,” he replied. “They deserve that much, some kind of peace… I believe everyone deserves to be given some kind of chance at a better life.” 

“So do I, which is probably why I have such a good feeling about you.” the man chuckled. “But it’s still a revolution. Just because it happened without blood doesn’t mean it’s not the first significant thing that’s changed on Taris in longer than most people have been alive. The last time anything kind of exciting happened, a bunch of Jedi Padawans died and Taris wasn’t allowed to join the Republic.” 

Gadon Thek paused, and Cass looked at him, watching as he seemed to think. He was a quiet old gangster, someone who had dedicated his life to protecting the people of the Lower City, someone worn low after years who would soon have to select a successor. 

Cass hoped that his successor was worthy, for the sake of Taris’ alien population, especially. 

“Why did you do it, kid? Why are you doing any of this? You’re hardly the poster child for a good Republic Citizen, you’ve probably broken just as many laws as I have, so what’s in this for you?” Thek asked, leveling Cass with a gaze, even if he couldn’t see him, something intense and quiet in the old gangster’s expression. 

“Do I need to get something out of this?” Cass asked with a shrug. “It just… felt like the right thing to do. If someone is suffering in front of your face and you know that you have the chance to make a real difference, that your actions will have positive consequences for everyone involved, wouldn’t you take it?”

“This isn’t about me,” Thek said, “it’s about you. Helping me? That makes sense. You get your Jedi. Helping the Underworlders? You’ll never see those people again. I suggest that you really think about your motivations, not just “it’s the right thing”, but why you  **_think_ ** that’s the right thing to do.” He shrugged heavily. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, just that it’s unusual for someone like you to do and think the things you do. I know why I’m the way I am. What about you?” 

Thek stood. “Go and get a shower and some sleep. I’m sure you’ve already been told, but there’s a change of clothes for you to sleep in on your bed. We’ll wash those for you tonight, just make sure you’re rested up for tomorrow.” 

“Thek?” Cass asked as he stood, eager to take a shower and then sleep. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Thek said. “If you survive the swoop race, then you can thank me.” 

Cass smiled to himself as he walked away, grateful when his head finally hit the pillow. Tonight he didn’t even want to contemplate his own morality, deciding to save that for a time when his life didn’t depend on his ability to be able to push forward without questioning. 

Besides, tomorrow he had to face a swoop race and save a Jedi and then he would get his answer about why all these things were happening to him. It was true that he’d always had good instincts, in terms of fighting and just in general, but there was something strange about the way it had been manifesting recently. Cass had his suspicions, but he wanted them confirmed by someone who actually knew what they were talking about. 

Curling up on his side, he stared into the darkness for a long moment, wondering what he would do if it were true. 

With that thought at the forefront of his mind, churning in his stomach, Cass finally slipped off to sleep. 

* * *

He didn’t know where he was, standing on a small bridge overlooking the water with an unfamiliar woman at his side. She was tall and dark haired, with blue eyes and a smattering of freckles of the bridge of her nose, and when she looked at him it was with an air of familiar melancholy.

“You’re going away again?” 

“I have to,” said a voice, his voice, but disembodied; it didn’t feel like he was saying the words. “The war front calls, my destiny calls, and I need someone I can trust here.” 

“And that’s me?” The woman asked, tearing her eyes away from him. “You know I’d follow you anywhere.”

“I know. Your loyalty does you as much credit as your courage,” said the voice before the scene shifted and the scenery of the distant mountains vanished, replaced with another location he didn’t recognize, though he knew it was the inside of a ship. 

“You can’t trust anyone,” said another voice he recognize, though this time it was the hollow voice of the Dark Lord Revan from behind his mask. “You should simply be grateful that I spared you, Apprentice, so that you can live to learn the lesson.” 

Cass turned his head, now standing beside the Dark Lord, who was looking down in the face of his apprentice… The sight of Malak with his jaw completely missing, the wound cauterized from a lightsaber blow to his face, twitching in pain on the ground was almost enough to make Cass throw up. His skin crawled, and he turned away, listening to the sound of boots on metal and the shifting of fabric as Malak was pulled to his feet. 

“And now you don’t even have a voice to respond with,” Revan said, his voice so chilly that it sent familiar cold hate sliding down Cass’ spine. “I’ve called the medical personnel. You’ll live, Malak, and you will regret ever challenging me. Crave the power all you want, but live with the knowledge that you were not  _ powerful _ enough to take it.” 

There was the sound of boots being dragged against metal as the footsteps of the medical personnel receded, carrying Darth Malak between them. Cass faced the bridge, watching the infinite depths of space expanding before them, vaguely aware of the presence of Revan at his side. 

“Even the foolish Captain Onasi has learned not to trust people,” Darth Revan said, his voice traveling easily over the humming of the ship’s engines and the countless computers on deck. “And here you are, still trusting people, little bird. It seems you need to be taught a lesson.” 

“You gonna Force choke me, milord?” Cass asked, looking to his left to stare at the man, who was looking out at space as if he didn’t notice Cass was there at all. 

“That would be pointless. You don’t learn from torture,” the man shook his head slowly. “You’re far too stubborn. Maybe I’ll just let you fail. If you fail a few times, you might learn not to do the things that harm you, like trusting that the Jedi can give you guidance. Her heart is filled with weakness, Cassus. Do you want to be weak?” 

“Why should I answer your questions?” Cass looked away, narrowing his eyes. “You’re dead.” 

“The Jedi Order hasn’t managed to kill me yet,” Darth Revan said, walking forward, his dark robes swirling about his ankles. “They’ll never manage to kill me as long as they show me mercy. You see, Cassus, I’m a Sith.” 

“I’ve noticed,” Cass said, glancing about for a means of escape; he didn’t exactly feel like having a heart to heart with the Dark Lord. “What, with all the people you’ve slaughtered.” 

“ _ Saved _ ,” Revan spun around, stalking toward him with long strides. “You don’t understand yet, but you will. Strength is the answer, little bird. Strength is what makes you worthy.” 

“I don’t think I like your definition of strength, thanks,” said Cass as he reached for the vibrosword at his side, finding himself unarmed. “I prefer not to sacrifice the people I used to care about for the pursuit of power.” 

There was a noise as a fierce red glow was cast across the metal planks beneath their feet, Darth Revan’s lightsaber humming to life. He still advanced on Cass, more force of nature than man, his steps echoing through the chamber like the ticking of a timer -- a timer for how long Cass had left to live. 

“When a part of you is weak,” Revan said, lunging forward, his blade lodged just below Cass’ heart, searing white pain racing through every one of Cass’ limbs as he was impaled on the blade, screaming in agony. “You cut that part out, bird.” 

“B-burn in….” Cass managed to choke, reaching out a hand to touch Revan’s mask, to try to push him away, to do  _ anything _ to save his own life. “Burn … in… Chaos.” 

“I suggest you kill your sentiment if you want to survive,” Revan said conversationally as if he hadn’t just stabbed Cass through the chest. “Your compassion always has been your most exploitable weakness. Cut it out, or be crushed by Malak. As it is, he’ll destroy you.” 

“Malak… has… nothing to do… with me,” Cass said, prompting Darth Revan to shake his head in his displeasure, tsk’ing him like he were a misbehaving child. 

“How wrong you are.” 

With a grunt, Revan pulled the blade free from Cass’ chest, and Cass crumpled to the ground in agony, his entire body twitching as his vision began to darken from the pain. “You should be grateful that I spared you,” Revan said, his voice echoing the sentiment he had just expressed to Malak moments ago. “Now you have a chance to live and learn your lesson…” 

As the words echoed in Cass’ mind, the world went dark, bursting into color a moment later as he opened his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar place. 

It took him a moment to adjust, the dream still leaving him shaken as he clutched at his chest, panting, staring at the ceiling with unblinking eyes. Phantom pain coursed through his every limb even as the details of the dreams became a bit foggier, still, he clung to that image of Darth Revan, and those last, chilling words. 

“Kriff,” he groaned, rolling over onto his side and then pushing himself into a sitting position so that his feet were sitting firmly on the ground. “Bek’s place. Swoop race. Bastila Shan.” 

If he thought about that for one second longer, he wasn’t sure he could get up and keep going. 

Sweet Force, that dream was just… 

**_Never_ ** again. 

Glancing toward the end of his bed, he found someone (probably a droid) had already left his laundered clothes there. Carefully, he stripped out of what he was wearing and then looked at himself in the room’s mirror, his brow furrowing into divots. It felt like years since he had last seen himself only though it had only technically been about a week, the last time he’d checked himself aboard the Spire. 

For some reason, Cass looked different than he remembered himself looking, older somehow. Reaching up, he touched the scraggly beard on his chin and then tugged his fingers through his shaggy brown hair a few times. His dark eyes looked shadowed, and he looked paler than he thought he had been, not that anyone really got tan in space. 

“Nerves,” he told himself, turning toward the door to find someone about to knock; one of the Beks, looking surprised to see him. 

“Oh. You’re already up. Well that’s good,” the young woman shrugged. “Come on. I’m supposed to feed you and then take you out to the Swoop course. The Boss and the other racers are already there getting set up, but they decided to let you sleep in since the mechanic has to fit your bike with the engine anyway.” 

He nodded mutely, idly fingering the hilt of the vibrosword at his waist, following the young woman through the Bek’s base and toward a room that probably served as a mess. There was a droid behind the counter that looked up when they entered the room before scurrying into some kind of backroom, probably to get his food ready. 

“Sleep well?” the little human woman asked. 

“Not my best rest, but that’s not your fault,” he shrugged, leaning against one of the walls while he waited for the Droid to do its job. “Bad dreams. It’s hard to feel rested when your sleep quality ends up getting thrown to the kath hounds.” 

“Nervous?” she asked. “I would be. Those bikes go fast. I can fight, but not swoop. I get motion sickness.” 

“They do go fast,” he agreed, “but I think I can manage.”

He was a bit nervous, he thought, but considering how much was at stake he’d probably be a fool if he wasn’t. 

A few moments later, Cass was choking down food that he didn’t really want to eat, but needed to anyway, and being rushed toward a part of the Lower City he had never seen before. The world went by in such a blur as he was transported that he didn’t really get to see the sights, so to speak, not that there was much to see, anyway. The entire Lower City was a mass of grey and black, with bright smears of neon as advertisements passed them by. 

It wasn’t long before Cass stood in front of a swoop bike whose engine hummed with an almost dangerous sound. Still, he could see that the machine was sturdy, and ran his hand along one of the handlebars, imagining himself astride the big machine. It was a pretty attractive machine, he thought to himself before he pulled away, examining the area, his eyes almost immediately lighting upon the energy cage that dominated the Vulkar’s half of the field. 

He didn’t get closer, leaning up against his bike instead, trying to get a good look at Shan. She was, as it turned out, short and solidly built, olive complexioned, dark haired, and completely drugged out of her mind. 

Naturally, she wasn’t armed, and she had been stripped down from her robes, standing in nothing but a black undershirt, her boots, and a pair of loose-fitting pants. Cass felt a momentary pang of sympathy for her, having been drugged before, though in her case it was probably to suppress her ability to use the Force.

Brejik wasn’t stupid. 

Even Cass would admit that a single Jedi was worth an entire unit of elite commandos. Jedi could move faster, hit harder, dodge better, and do things with their abilities that no one else could even hope of doing. She could probably disable all of them relatively quickly, which meant that they had probably pulled her from the wreckage of her pod unconscious. 

“ _ You’re the new racer _ ?” 

Cass turned around to find himself confronted with a Duros holding a portable holoterminal of some kind, staring at him almost boredly with his large, red eyes. “ _ It’s almost time for your turn on the track _ ,” the man said. “ _ Goal is to have the fastest time. You have two tries, so don’t mess it up, and don’t hit the obstacles _ .” 

The Duros paused and then gentled his expression, leaning forward as he tapped his long finger against the touch screen of his little terminal. “ _ You’re the Beks’ new guy _ ?” 

“That’s me,” Cass said, offering the Duros a tired smile. 

“ _ Boss Thek told me some stories about you _ ,” he said. “ _ A lot of us here want you to win, so good luck _ .” 

“Thanks,” he was almost about to say he needed it, but then a thought occurred to him, though he doubted that this was the right time or place to test his theory. “I have a good feeling about this race.” 

The Duros didn’t say anything else, leaving Cass to line up his bike at the start line, his stomach churning with the knowledge of what had to be done. He could feel his palms sweat, but the awareness tugged at the back of his mind, begging him to go into this with the blind trust in the Force that a Jedi would have. 

Cass had never doubted his instincts before, it was true.

He’d never had a  **_reason_ ** to.

Every time they’d called to him, it had been in the heat of battle, or the middle of a dogfight high above the surface of whatever planet he’d been smuggling goods from. There had been no time to think it over, to question why he knew the things he did or could react so quickly to threats other people only became aware of in the aftermath. Now, though… Now he was questioning, thinking about what it all meant. 

_ Don’t think…  _ **_Feel._ **

Cass straddled the swoop bike, could hear the countdown in Huttese above him, echoing over the arena. He revved the engine, and realized that now wasn’t the time to hesitate, either. 

Too much was on the line to doubt something that had carried him this far, across planets and perils to this moment, to save the Jedi trapped in that cage. 

_ Don’t think---  _

The bike underneath him felt solid, the countdown echoing in his skull, the hum of the engine in time with the beating of his heart, which had slowed to a steady pace, as if he were at rest. 

**_Feel._ **

The countdown finished, and Cass shot from the starting line, letting himself become one with the swoop bike. The obstacles in front of him were easy to dodge if he moved as if he and the machine beneath him were of one form, moving at speeds Cass had never experienced before, everything around him a blur. 

In moments, it was over, and he was at the finish line, the swoop arcing to a stop, the bike beneath him hot to the touch. He heart began to pound then as the Bek technicians came to gather the bike and take it back to the start, his limbs shaking with the knowledge of what he had just done. 

Even now he could still feel something, just beyond the tips of his fingers, beyond describing, humming within and without him. It touched him, the technicians, the entire world, binding them in a way that was affirming and yet terrifying. 

He quickly pushed it from his mind the moment he reached the the Beks, who were already hollering and laughing, patting each other on the back. The Rodian closest to him pulled him into the circle the moment he was close enough to reach, the human woman next to him patting him heartily on the back. “You did it! Your time! It’s on the leaderboard!” 

He looked up, his own time flashing in bright orange while the other times remained in green. Cass allowed himself to smile, though he had the sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to stay the top time as the Vulkars took their second turn on the track. 

It would be way too easy if it did. 

It turned out Cass was right, and one of the Vulkars, a vicious looking Duros in a black jacket, managed to knock his time down by an entire second. None of the other Beks could hope to touch it, and he could feel their expectation as the looked at him, the sensation momentarily making him nervous before he pushed the thought from his mind. 

There was no time for doubt. 

He took a breath as he walked toward the bike, trying to surrender himself to that field of energy, to trust that it would lead him to victory. Cass couldn’t afford to fail, so he pushed aside the fear, letting a numb sort of peace fill him as he straddled his swoop bike and turned the engine on, listening to the countdown echo around him. 

The sense of peace grew, and Cass closed his eyes, letting the instinct swell within him until it filled his every limb. Any fear he was feeling, any doubt, was pushed to the wayside as the timer blared and Cass shot from the start line, 

This time, it was different. 

He felt apart from the world around him, almost capable of seeing the obstacles long before they arrived in his line of vision, looking without looking, anticipating without anticipation. Everything felt boundless, but at the same time focused, as if nothing but his task mattered, though he could almost sense its relevance to the greater destiny of the Galaxy. 

Cass barely noticed when he had finished his run, reality jolting back into emotion and color the moment he found himself in the middle of a pile of hollering Beks. 

“You did it! The spacer did it!” The Rodian was shouting. “He beat the time!” 

“Never rode swoop before my ass,” laughed someone else in the distance, though Cass barely noticed, his eyes focusing on Brejik, who was shouldering his way through the small crowd. 

“You cheated,”said Brejik, younger than Thek, his voice far colder. “I’m not going to give the prize to a cheater. That engine is illegal, and was stolen from my workshop late last night.”

An overwhelming sense of confusion overcame Cass, who felt himself sway on his feet, the sensation odd and foreign, like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was why he didn’t have a rebuttal, and why the Duros who was officiating the event had to step in, though Brejik didn’t appear to be having any of it. 

The disembodied confusion vanished the moment someone cried out in agony, and Cass jumped into action, grabbing a blaster pistol from the belt of one of Brejik’s Lieutenants and shooting him through the face. 

“Don’t just stand there!” He shouted to the Beks, who were frozen in place but seemed to melt to life at his words, jumping into the fray. 

Before long, the entire concourse had broken out into fighting, and Cass found himself back to back with the Jedi, taking on a convergence of Vulkars who were fighting side by side with Brejik himself. She had somehow managed to wrest a pike from one of the men who had been on guard outside of her containment cell, while he had taken a sword from one of the men he’d taken out awhile ago. 

“We need to flank them,” said Shan. “I’ll go around back. You stay here and distract them.”

He didn’t argue, seeing the merit to her plan as he disarmed one of the Vulkars and forged forward, throwing himself into the fray. In short work, even with the din of combat around him, it felt like the Vulkars fell and he and the Jedi were going toe to toe with Brejik. 

All things considered, the man was pretty good at fighting, but he was outnumbered two to one, and one of those people was a Jedi. Bastila easily disarmed him by capturing the guard of his blade with her pike and using her momentum to get him to fumble and drop it. After that, it was a matter of ending his life, something Cass did the first opportunity he had, driving his blade up and into Brejik’s heart. 

The man fell to the ground, motionless, prompting Cass to stare across the circle of bodies into the Jedi’s eyes. For a moment, she stared at him intensely with her pale eyes, an expression etched across her face that he couldn't quite read, something bordering on the wrong edge of fear. He could almost feel it, but as soon as he reached out to try to understand the emotion, it was like a wall made of durasteel was erected between them, blocking all attempts at understanding. 

“Master Jedi,” he said in way of greeting, straightening his back and shaking his head of the sensation. “Good to see you out and about.” 

Her lips drew together in a tight line and he knew before she even spoke a word that he wouldn’t like what she had to say. “And just what are you supposed to be?” 

“Gee, I don’t know,” he said, annoyance bubbling to the surface and overcoming his good sense. “Probably the guy who saved you from your captors, but I can’t really be sure.” 

“I could have done just fine on my own,” the Jedi said, reaching down to unhook her lightsaber from Brejik’s belt. “I had the situation completely under control and would have managed to free myself with or without the presence of some scruffy smuggler.” 

“Whatever you say, Princess,” Cass said, shrugging. “Seems to me you wouldn’t have had the distraction you needed to escape without my help, but what do I know? I’m just a scruffy smuggler. I couldn’t  **_possibly_ ** know more about the criminal underworld than you do.” 

The look on her face was a reward in and of itself. 

Shan was pretty, but the self-righteousness came off of her in waves. He could almost taste her superiority complex, even though she was standing more than an arm’s length away from him. She reeked of typical Jedi arrogance, not that he had expected anything else. 

She was their golden child, after all, Revan’s killer. 

Good thing he had a talent for shutting these kinds of people up. 

“How dare you! I am a Jedi, and as a Jedi, I have far more experience and skill than you could muster on your best day, you… you petty criminal!” She hooked her lightsaber back onto her belt and glowered at him, arms crossed over her chest.

“Sure,” he said with a lazy half-grin. “I’m sure some little girl who just passed her Jedi Entrance Exam has more experience than a smuggler who’s been making runs across the most dangerous parts of space for longer than she’s had her lightsaber.” She seemed about to say something else, but he cut her off. “I’m here on behalf of Captain Carth Onasi. He was running this rescue mission. I’m just his errand boy.” 

“Captain Onasi? Of the Endar Spire?” She seemed to perk up, her back straightening. “Why didn’t you say so immediately? Take me to him.”

Great. Just… great. 

She was even worse than he thought she’d be, and now he was stuck with her until they got off this planet. He still wanted his answers, and he’d get them one way or another, but he didn’t look forward to the teeth he’d have to pull to get them. 

Talking to her was like talking to a politician, and he didn’t feel diplomatic enough to put up with her bantha shit. 

“As her highness wishes,” he said with a bow. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to walk. I don’t have any royal chariot to take you in.” 

The dramatic, indignant pout on her face was well worth every scathing remark he received in retort. 


	7. Part One; Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all again for reading this. I know you are because I see the hits go up every time I release a chapter, so I really do appreciate all of the people who read this, even if I don't know who you are.
> 
> I honestly wasn't even expecting this much when I first uploaded it, so it's good to know that I've caught someone's attention.

As it turned out, Carth didn’t seem to like her any more than Cass did, which brought them a strange sense of solidarity with one another. She was bossy, insufferably self-righteous when it came to the “right” course of action, and didn’t seem to understand the simple very simple principle that good leaders didn’t make demands without also making sacrifices.

“We need to come up with a course of action, not argue,” Carth said, his jacket flung over the back of one of the chairs in their small, illegally occupied apartment. “We’re not going to get off this planet if we keep bickering about who the leader is.”

“But we need a solid direction!” The Princess said. “We can’t just wander aimlessly and hope that we find a solution! I have no idea how you managed to mount any sort of rescue at all with that as your primary strategy, Captain.”

“Because we were willing to **_improvise_ ** ,” the Captain retorted, running his hand over his beard in frustration for the fifth time in half an hour. “And **_cooperate_ **. Having a leader isn’t going to give us a clear direction, which is why I say we should just go out and gather information.”

“But that still doesn’t give us someone to defer to! We need a leader so that we know what to do with the information and so that someone is making the decisions!” Bastila crossed her arms firmly over her chest, refusing to budge on her position. “That’s the first thing that’s always done when it comes to these sorts of things. It’s the reason militaries have hierarchies.”

“But right now we’re in a sticky situation that has almost nothing to do with combat. The information you’re carrying on whatever your secret mission is is more important than fighting this like it’s a war.” Carth pointed out. “Besides, good leaders pay attention to the opinions of those under their command, and more than that, they’re people in a good position to lead others. Right now, that’s not you.”

“Is it because you think I’m not experienced enough?” Cass thought he detected some nervousness in her voice in spite of the challenging tilt of her jaw and the way her blue eyes narrowed into nearly venomous slits. “I’m a Jedi, Captain. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m not saying you can’t. It’s just… look. You’re the one we need to protect, and you also have the least experience dealing with the Exchange or really any sort of criminals. I know you killed Revan, but this is different, and we really need someone familiar with this kind of environment to lead us in this situation.” Carth sighed, looking tired, though Cass didn’t blame him.

Shan was a handful.

“I agree with the Captain,” Cass said. “And not because he’s volunteering me for the position.” He paused, enduring her glare for a moment longer before sighing and finally elaborating. “A good leader listens to what their subordinates say, and I’m sorry, Princess, but you don’t have enough experience to be trusted in this situation.”

She also had the subtlety of a mother rancor protecting its twins and would get them killed with her tactlessness in half a second, but that seemed a bit too cruel to mention.

“How _dare_ you!” Shan hissed between her teeth. “I know quite well what I’m doing.”

“You’re acting like a brat,” Carth interjected. “And we really don’t have time for that right now. Maybe no one has ever told you this before, but just because you’re a Jedi doesn’t mean you’re better than the rest of us and that you have the inborn right to lead men with twenty or more years of leadership experience more than you between us. We know what we’re doing. If you really were a good leader, you’d trust that.” Carth sighed again at the abashed look on her face and brought his hand to his beard. “Listen… I’m going to chock it up to inexperience and nerves, Bastila, but you need to learn to trust our experience, if nothing else.”

Her eyes widened, and in that moment, something came over her, something that gave Cass hope that they could work together. Maybe she was just young, inexperienced, frightened… And she was lashing out, because when Carth spoke about inexperience and nerves, she bowed her head, took a breath, and nodded.

“You’re… You’re right. That was out of line. You two do have more experience with these kinds of situations. I will respect your judgement.” She seemed to literally swallow down her pride before almost forcing herself to look at him, her pale eyes intense with some emotion that briefly caused nebulous uncertainty to billow inside his chest. “What do you suggest, Lieutenant?”

“First of all, don’t call me that,” he said, holding up a hand, nervousness sliding around in his gut the more he looked at her. “It’s Cass and he’s Carth. We’re going to have to be until we get off of this planet.”

He was grateful when the door hissed open and it gave him an excuse to break eye contact to watch Mission and Zaalbar enter the room. Cass smiled and waved to Mission when she smiled at him and threw him a container with caff in it, which he caught almost automatically. “Find anything interesting?”

“Not really, though you should check outside. There’s a Duros milling around staring at the apartment like he’s trying to remember where he dropped something important.” Mission shrugged. “My guess is he was paid to come here. I know this area pretty well, and people don’t just loiter around outside of doors for no reason.”

Zaalbar rumbled his agreement and walked toward Carth and Bastila to hand them both cans of something… probably juice. He then walked toward the corner to sit down on the only surface thick enough to hold him (the table), and started to clean one of the vibroswords.

“That answers your question, Bastila,” Cass said, opening his caff in hopes that it would start to soothe the pounding headache that had blossomed between his eyes. “We’ll go outside and see what the nice gentleman Duros was paid to tell us, and then we’ll go and follow whatever lead he gives us.”

“But how did he know where to find us?” Bastila asked. “Aren’t you worried?”

“I don’t know if you know this, Jedi Lady,” Mission interrupted from where she sat at Zaalbar’s feet, “but Flyboy here has the fastest swoop times on record in a decade. Swoop is pretty big among us aliens, so he’s something like a legend now, especially because he killed Brejik and let the Beks take over. It’s not that weird for someone to try to contact him.”

“Yes, it must be so wonderful to have notoriety among criminals.”

“Watch it, Princess,” Cass said, pointing a finger at her. “In case you’ve forgotten, I _am_ a criminal, even if I’m a retired one.”

He couldn’t explain the look that crossed her face, one part shock, two parts worry, tinged with anger, though it didn’t last. She looked away once she caught him staring.

“Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” She looked toward the can in her hands, exhaled, and gentled her voice. “Thank you, Mission.”

“Not a problem. We’ll hold down the fort while you’re out,” Mission said. “Comm us if you need anything.”

It turned out that the Duros had a message for them from Canderous Ordo, and while Cass recognized the last name as belonging to one of the Mandalorian Clans, he doubted Carth and Bastila did. Strange enough to think, but Bastila was probably too young to have fought in the Wars, wasn’t she? She would have been a teenager when the Jedi Crusaders were recruiting.

“We’re going to meet some stranger in a cantina?” Bastila asked. “Without doing any intelligence?”

“I don’t think we have much choice,” Carth said with a sigh as they walked toward the Upper City Cantina, Jayvar’s. “Besides, Cass is pretty good at this sort of thing.”

“Practice makes perfect, Cap,” Cass shrugged.

“You should be concerned that you’ve had enough practice to be good at making shady deals with strange men in cantinas.” Bastila muttered under her breath, clearing her throat before she glanced nervously toward Carth. “Actually, can you walk ahead for a moment Ca--Carth?”

The Captain, to his credit, arched his eyebrows questioningly, but shrugged and said nothing more as he pulled ahead.

“So, to what do I owe this honor, your highness?” Cass said with an easy smile.

“Enough of that. This is serious,” Bastila snapped. “I am not a princess.” She took another deep breath as they walked side by side through the busy Taris streets, her lightsaber tucked behind the flaps of a coat Mission had found for her the night before. “We need to talk about how you were able to reach me.”

“There’s not much to it,” he said, knowing full what she was leading into but not wanting to admit it to himself, at least not out loud. “I followed the trail straight toward you.”

“Surely you don’t believe all of that was coincidence or **skill**?” Bastila’s eyes tried to pierce him, and he tried to shrug them off, his jaw tightening at her insult. “A Jedi knows that there’s no such thing as chance. There is only the Force.”

“Good thing I’m not a Jedi then, Shan,” he muttered, running his hand over his face and forcing a breath from in between his teeth. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

He could practically feel the annoyance radiating off of her at his flippant attitude, and reminded himself that she was just some sheltered Jedi who had no idea how the world worked. It made her easy to swallow, as forceful as she was.

“That’s exactly my point. You’re not a Jedi,” she said after trying to glare a hole in the back of his head. “You’re not a Jedi, and yet you use the Force. It surrounds you, fills you.”

He froze, staring at her with open shock on his face.

Cass had suspected, guessed, had even used his suspicions to win the kriffing swoop race, and yet hearing it was still like taking a shockstick to the gut. Something about her verbal admission that he was Force Sensitive, a confirmation from someone who knew what they were talking about… It left him feeling oddly unstable.

He had known, and yet… Some innate part of himself fought against the realization, as if he wasn’t **supposed** to be Force Sensitive.

“I have to report on this to the Jedi Council,” Bastila said, taking his silence as permission to continue speaking. “You’re incredibly powerful, and your aptitude… it honestly makes me wonder why no one noticed.”

“I doubt the Jedi Council is going to care about some Force Sensitive ex-smuggler in his late thirties,” he finally managed, walking with long, quick strides to gain ground on Carth. “I’m not a danger or a liability. Apparently, I only use my… my powers to save my own skin and escape Outer Rim city worlds.”

“You’re dangerous,” she said too quickly, enough to make his eyes snap to her as she stumbled over her words to correct herself. “If left untrained, Force Sensitives are often dangerous. We don’t usually train people as old as you are, but you’re powerful enough that I’m certain the Council would make an exception.”

“You assume I have any desire to be a Jedi, which, let’s be honest, is a pretty big assumption.” He paused. “I understand not a lot of you get a choice, but the rest of us value our free will.”

Her face turned pale and her lips pressed into an angry line, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she had the strength to respond. “At least I’m doing something with my power other than serving my own ego!”

He could have said something terrible to her in response, but he really didn’t want to alienate her anymore than he already had, and besides, they were fast approaching Jayvar’s. “That’s probably true,” he said again, “but I’m not causing anyone any harm either, so thanks but no thanks. I’m not going to let anyone control my destiny but me.”

He pulled ahead of her, not wanting to continue the conversation, clasping Carth on the back as he walked up to him. Carth cast him an amused look, one that was tinged with sympathy. After he’d spent the entire morning arguing with their Jedi Princess, Cass didn’t blame him.

Ironically, Bastila was bringing them closer together.

“Done arguing with her?” Carth asked. “That wasn’t exactly quiet.”

“For now, anyway,” Cass sighed. “After this, I’m retiring from my military tour of duty and returning to smuggling. Mission and Zaalbar will need a job, and if we’re going to get off this planet, we’re going to need to eventually steal a ship…”

“I don’t blame you,” Carth said. “I wish you’d stay, the Republic could use more decent men and women, especially now, but I get why you’d leave.” He lowered his voice. “Especially if she’s going to try to rope you into the Jedi Order. You strike me as a free spirit.”

There was a silence between them and Carth paused before entering the building, placing a hand on Cass’ arm and clearing his throat. “Listen,” he said in a voice that sounded almost as painful as a blaster wound felt. “I feel like I should apologize. You were suspicious, and knowing that you’re just… well, different, I feel like an ass, frankly. You should know that my… uh… paranoia isn’t your fault.”

Carth swallowed and looked away, his hand dropping to his side before he clenched it into a fist. “The man who bombed Telos… He was… He was my mentor. I haven’t really been able to trust anyone since, and I’m sorry for taking that out on you.”

“Not too different from why I don’t like Jedi,” Cass admitted, just in time for Bastila to overhear him. “I get it. Don’t let it get to you. Our promise still stands.”

Carth glanced warily toward Bastila, who was frowning intently, but offered him a weary smile regardless. “Thanks. Now let’s get going,” he cast a glance toward Bastila. “The longer she’s out in the open, the more we risk word getting to the Sith. We should hurry.”

As it turned out, the man who had summoned them was a Mandalorian after all, specifically the Mandalorian from the Undercity. At least, Cass thought, they had a name for the face now, as grizzled and scarred as it was.

He could easily see this man sporting the full Mandalorian body armor and riding a Basilisk, especially with how sour his expression turned when he saw Shan. If he worked for the gangster Davik Kang, he probably knew what the Vulkars had gotten up to in their spare time, so he could know she was a Jedi.

“ **_You’re_ ** Jaylen?” Ordo asked, running a thumb over his chapped lips curiously, assessing the three of them like they were possible opponents in an arena. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Someone ballsy enough to go into the Undercity would have the chops to kill Brejik in front of a crowd of his most loyal followers and live.”

Cass’ watched Carth and Bastila both freeze like they had been placed in a carbonite chamber and took the initiative, sitting down in the chair across from Canderous and leaning back. He felt comfortable here, playing these sorts of roles, cutting deals across tables in murky cantinas. “Why the upscale venue?”

“The people I work for don’t frequent this place,” Canderous said, taking a drink of something that smelled like it could melt the enamel off of teeth. “We can discuss our business in the open without worrying about anyone overhearing. It’s a lot more efficient than having to shoot holes in a bunch of idiots too stupid to mind their own kriffing business.”

“So this _is_ about business,” Cass said, glancing briefly toward Bastila. “I guess you know who we are, then.”

“I know who the girl is,” the Mandalorian replied. “That’s all I need to know to know that you’ll be trying to get off this two bit excuse for a city world. See, I happen to know the location of a freighter we can both use to get out here.” He leaned forward, his sinewy arms rippling as he laced his fingers in front of him. “And you’re the one person who I trust to be crazy enough to help me get the launch codes we’d need to be able to use it.”

For a moment, no one said anything, until words began to hiss between Bastila’s lips. “You want us to steal the _Sith Launch Codes_?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “That’s most unwise. We’d be walking right into the Krayt Dragon’s Lair.”

“Keep it down, Jedi,” Canderous grumbled. “I wouldn’t suggest it if it weren’t already my damn job. Davik wants those codes, and it’s his ship we’d be stealing.” He turned his attention back to Cass. “I’d get you into his private suite by telling him you want to join the Exchange. I can also get the droid that you’ll need to break in the Sith Base. I’m known around here so I can’t do it, but you’re an outsider.”

For some reason, Cass felt a strange surge of… something. He couldn't quite place the emotions, even as they swirled through him, though they made him feel more confident in his ability to navigate a Sith Base without much issue. Maybe a part of it, too, was a desire for vengeance after what had been done to the Endar Spire.

It was only when Bastila cleared her throat that Cass realized she had been staring at him.

“Fine,” he said. “I don’t see that we really have a choice, and either way, we’ll need those codes. I have one provision, though.”

“Name it,” Canderous said as Carth and Bastila both started at him blankly.

“Give me some credits to purchase medical supplies. I’m not going to break into a Sith facility without medpacs on hand,” Cass said, remembering that he still held a sample of the Rakghoul Vaccine that he wanted to get to a Tarisian doctor.

“Heh. Deal,” Canderous said, leaning back to fish in his belt pouch, pushing some credit chips across the table toward him. “If you don’t come back, I’ll assume you’ve been killed.”

“ _Kih’parjai_ ,” Cass said. “We’re going to come back.”

Canderous shook his head. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

* * *

“At least it was a worthwhile detour,” Bastila said as they approached the looming Sith Base; according to the Twi'leki Droid Tech, it had been an office building in the commercial district that had belonged to Czerka and Adascorp before the Sith had commandeered it for their operations.

“All my detours are worthwhile,” Cass replied. “Let’s just say the Force has lead me to some mysterious places…”

“Like sewers and the lair of a rancor,” Carth interjected. “That bath at the Bek’s base was the best bath I’ve ever taken in my life.”

“A rancor?” Bastila asked as the little droid, a T3 unit, rolled ahead of them as if sick of their conversation.

“The Vulkars kept it as their back door guardian. It was half mad with hunger.” Cass fell back a few steps, looking over his shoulder to make sure that no one was following them. “I put it out of its misery.”

Bastila seemed about to answer, but at that moment they caught up with T3, who was chirping quietly, clearly surprised at his own success. Immediately, the Jedi fell silent, whatever indignant and disbelieving comment she’d been about to make fading before it had even been given voice.

She was a professional.

Even if she sometimes lacked tact, she still carried a lightsaber.

She could probably handling infiltrating this place.

Suddenly, he was glad that the teenaged Twi’lek scavenger and her Wookie companion weren’t with them. He wouldn’t want to put either of them in this kind of danger, not when they were native to the planet.

Without a single word, the four of them entered the large complex, greeted by a startled human woman at the large desk in the lobby. “O-oh. You don’t… uh…  You don’t look like Sith.”

“Don’t press the button,” Cass said. “You don’t look like Sith, either, so the chances are you’re not going to want to be here in a few minutes.”

She glanced around, looked down to her computer terminal and the bright red button for the holocom before looking back into their faces and stepping away from her desk. “I worked here before they took over, and they forced me to stay on,” she admitted. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m… I’m going home.”

Her heels clacked quietly on the tile as she left and the doors closed behind her.

T3 beeped quietly, something about wanting to check the security room to see if they could download a map of the facility, and rolled off to their left. Cass followed him, the door opening to a few men and women who were changing from civies into their uniforms -- Trooper armor.

There was the sound of a blaster’s safety clicking off as one of them reached toward their belt, but before they could do anything, a blaster fired off directly behind Cass’ ear and they feel to the floor, dead.

A blur leapt past him then, the sound of a lightsaber activating accompanying it, and in another flash the other two Sith were dead, Bastila standing over their bodies as she deactivated her yellow saberstaff.

T3 rolled forward again, reaching out to attach to the computer port.

He chirped about the location of the launch codes, and talked how how he could disable the security system if they got him to the control room, then detached and turned around.

“T3 says that there’s a control room where he can disable the security system, which we’ll need shit down before we can go to the CEO’s office, where the launch codes are being protected by a… a Dark Jedi?”

He glanced toward Bastila, who was already making a disapproving face. “Let’s get this over with,” she said. “Do you know where the control room is?”

T3 chirped and Cass translated.

“To the East. So… left.”

As it turned out, the place was mostly staffed by droids and a few remaining security personnel. Two days ago, Cass might have said they had just been lucky, but now he realized that their timing was probably the courtesy of the Force. It’s like they had known when the shift changes would happen -- They’d just strolled here and hadn’t cased the place. Probably a mistake, but it’s not like they’d had the time.

He wondered if having two Force Sensitives here had increased their chances, but pushed the thought away to focus on traveling the corridors, following behind T3 and providing cover for him. Though the Droid had means to defend himself, he was still just a utility Droid, and his arm did little more than stun, at the time being.

Cass would think about the Force, and about Droid upgrades, later.

Rounding a corner, T3 opened another door, and this time, Cass was ready to face the combination of Droids and Sith in the room, which was certainly more well-manned than the rest of the base. Carth was already firing off blaster bolts at the assault Droids, while Cass leaped forward with Bastila, brandishing his vibrosword.

He didn’t focus on the Droids because it was harder to cut through them with a vibrosword than it was to shoot them with a blaster. Instead, he focused on the Sith, skewering one on his blade while dodging the blow from another, momentarily relinquishing hold on his hilt. For a moment, he panicked, the Sith closing in on him brandishing a blade of his own, but reflexively shot out his hand instead, watching the man go flying into the droid behind him.

Thankfully, the shock numbed him long enough that he was able to grab his blade from the chest of the other Sith and spin around to face the man he’d dodged only moments ago. It took only moments to take out the rest of the room, leaving them alone in the large command room with nothing but scrap metal and corpses for company.

Already, he could feel Bastila staring at him, but did his best to ignore her, walking over to T3, who was plugging in to one of the large supercomputers that directly controlled the building’s power and security protocols.

“You know, this is a lot easier than I thought it would be,” Carth said, walking up beside Cass.

“The Force is with us,” Bastila replied from somewhere behind them as T3 worked at getting them through the security system. “You have a Jedi and a Force Sensitive with you. I believe the Force is trying to get us off this planet for the sake of the Galaxy.”

“I don’t think any of us are going to argue that,” Carth leaned against the terminal and stared at the door they had entered from. “There’s no way we’d have gotten this far if it weren’t for the Force. I’ve worked with Jedi enough to know that things just go better when you’re around. We wouldn’t have won the war without the Revanchists, for example.”

“The Revanchists were **_not_ ** Jedi” Bastila protested. “Not _proper_ ones, at least. Their leader, especially. You have no idea what he was like if you never met him in person. He sucked all the warmth from a room, but at the same time, no one could deny the strength of his will or the power of his presence.”

“I was his chief Admiral’s protege, and you think I never met him in person?” Carth asked, and then sighed heavily. “I know what he was like. I know the effect he had on people. He could talk anyone into anything. That’s why it’s good that he’s dead.” Carth paused, glancing toward Cass, who was watching the screen of the computer terminal and pretending not to listen to their conversation. “I’m not saying that them or their betrayal were good, I’m just saying that things went easier for us when they were around. They won us that war.”

“You’re… you’re right,” Bastila said as T3 began to beep, pulling away from the computer. “Even I can admit that. Revan was many things… But no one can deny that he was good at what he did.”

“Enough chit-chat,” Cass said, placing his hand on top of T3’s head, which seemed to confuse him. “Our friend has managed to disable the security system. The path toward the CEO’s office has been opened. We can get those launch codes.”

Bastila looked at him again, but said nothing.

If she was giving him the cold shoulder, he wouldn’t be surprised, but he thought it was something more. Something told him that, if they got off this rock, she was going to try to confront him about joining the Order again, especially after seeing him push that man across the room.

What frightened him was that he could almost feel the Force pushing him toward her and the Jedi Order, a compulsion that he did his best to ignore.

Right now, what mattered was getting off of Taris and leaving the Sith behind them, at least for the time being. Cass somehow doubted the Sith would ever truly stop chasing Bastila, but if he left Bastila, that wouldn’t matter. He may be tall, but he was still pretty average looking. There was no way a bunch of Sith would remember what he looked like.

All he had to do was get her to Dantooine.

That was it.

And then maybe all of this would go away.

It didn’t take them long to travel the long, quiet halls toward the CEO’s office. Cass figured that most of the Sith stationed here at night were still on patrol right now. If they got the codes and got out before the shifts changed and avoided the barracks, they would be just fine. They would miss the changing of shifts by a long shot and could probably even get a good night’s sleep before going to Davik’s place.

They just had to kill a Force Adept Sith first.

“Ready yourself,” Bastila said the moment they stepped into the lift to be taken up toward the office. “I can sense a dark presence here. This enemy is unlike any you’ve fought before.”

A shiver ran down Cass’ spine as he thought about his dream a few days before, of the absolute darkness and cold of the hatred of the Dark Lord Revan. It was just a dream, he reminded himself, a very strange dream. Bastila was annoying, but there was no doubt in his mind she was a person with decent intentions and a good heart, and he knew for a fact that mercy and compassion were not weaknesses.

They were strengths.

His strengths.

He would never give in to the dreams… But he wouldn’t trust Bastila with them, either.

If she knew, he thought with a pang of panic, she would be even more determined to force him into the arms of the Jedi Order. He wanted to run away from that embrace. He didn’t want to be a puppet or tool of the Jedi Order because of something that was beyond his control.

Revan was right about one thing and one thing only -- he couldn’t trust the Jedi, no matter how pure her intentions were. Perhaps precisely because her intentions were pure.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind as the door opened, letting Bastila go first this time, her lightsaber igniting with a hum, the dual yellow blades materializing into view. Thankfully, there was no conversation, no posturing, just combat, which was easy enough to fall into under the lead of a Jedi Knight.

Unfortunately, a vibrosword was almost useless against a lightsaber, which left Bastila to parry hits while either Carth or Cass tried to land a blow.

It was hardly an ideal situation, the dancing going on long enough to start to make Cass feel anxious that they weren’t actually going to succeed when help came from an unlikely place. T3, gone unnoticed by the Sith Adept, rolled up behind the brute and reached out with one of his droid multitools, sending a jolt through the man’s body long enough for Bastila to disarm him -- literally.

The Sith Adept cried out as Bastila deactivated her lightsaber, seemingly to spare him.

“Of course you don’t have the strength to do it, Jedi,” he sneered through the absolute agony he had to be in. “Do you think you’ve crippled me? That I can’t still use--!”

His voice cut off abruptly, monologue silenced by the sword through his chest as Cass impaled him.

“She may not,” Cass said as he pulled it away and the man fell, blood spurting from his open mouth, “but I do.”

He could already feel the Jedi’s horrified eyes on him as he nodded toward T3, who was already rolling toward the large terminal behind the desk. “He was defeated,” Bastila said. “We could have --”

“We don’t have the resources to take prisoners.” It was Carth. “The Sith would have killed him anyway, for losing the launch codes. And I promise they wouldn’t have been as nice as Cass.” Bastila didn’t say anything, looking toward him with a conflicted expression on her face. “Listen, unfortunately people die in war. None of us _want_ to kill them, but… What choice do we have?”

“There’s always a choice,” she said, staring at the Sith’s body and then looking toward Cass with a strange expression on her face. “But perhaps you’re right. Still… It seems a bit cowardly to kill someone defenseless.”

“I think we both know that someone who can use the Force is never truly defenseless,” Cass said, looking toward T3, who was pulling away from the terminal. “Even if you take off a few of their limbs, they can always use their minds. This man’s only chance at rehabilitation would have been drugs to suppress his powers and therapy. Right now, we don’t have that option. I had to kill him.”

Bastila shook her head as T3 began to roll back toward the elevator, chirping happily.

“How long are you going to keep telling yourself there wasn’t another way to justify murdering an innocent man?” She asked. “If you kill them in cold blood, you’re no better than they are.”

She said nothing else, leaving Cass to stare after her, feeling like he had somehow failed, even when Carth’s reassuring hand fell on his shoulder.


	8. Part One: Chapter Eight

“So is she always that much of a ray of sunshine?” Canderous asked as they sped through the streets of the Taris, ferryed to Davik Kang’s high rise mansion by a droid. 

“She’s a Jedi,” Cass said with a shrug. “And she’s the one who took down Revan. The Jedi Order is using her to win their war.” He stared out the window of the speeder listlessly, T3, pressing into his leg and chirping almost worriedly. “Besides, she doesn’t trust me.” 

Cass reached out and pressed a hand against T3, listening to Canderous snort, the sound loud in the small taxi cabin. “After how much you’ve stuck her neck out for her? What does she think you’re going to do? Hold her hostage from the Jedi Order? Only an idiot would do that if they were walking into Jedi territory.” 

The Mandalorian shook his head. “I still can’t believe she defeated him. She’s too green. I won’t believe that’s how Revan died until I have proof.” 

“That’s right,” Cass said almost absently, his mind still on Bastila’s words from the day before, dwelling on the concept of his own morality. “You fought in the Wars.”

“Damn right I did,” Canderous replied. “Every Mandalorian worth their armor did. I was right there on the front lines, fighting Revan and his men. Now  _ that _ was a warrior!” 

“I didn’t fight in those Wars,” Cass admitted. “But I heard stories. About the liberation of Taris… About Malachor V.” He looked out the window of the speeder, at the city flying past them in a myriad of colored blurs. “I heard Revan brought city worlds to bear just to make alliances. I heard that he almost single-handedly liberated Taris after years of the rebels fighting occupation..” 

“It’s all true,” Canderous said. “Except it felt different in person. It’s the difference between the weak and the strong, people who are willing to make the hard choices, and the people who aren’t. Revan had it all, the fire, the will. Just being in the same room, you felt it.” Canderous sighed heavily and shifted in his seat. “But enough about that. We need to start preparing for what’s ahead. Now isn’t the time to relive old battles.” 

“So after we do what we came here to do, we’re going to swing by the spaceport to get the rest of our crew,” Cass said, not looking at Canderous, letting the subject of Revan drop; he didn’t really want to discuss the Dark Lord that much anyway, not when he was part of the source of Cass’ problem. “Carth is going to send me the terminal. We have the landing codes so no one will question us coming and going.” 

“Right. Shan’s our ticket out of here anyway, but she’d just get us caught if we took her with. We can’t risk our promise of passage to safer pastures with open spaceports.” Canderous paused. “Ever stolen a ship before, Jaylen?” 

Cass thought about it for a moment, but realized he honestly didn’t know, though he had the sneaking suspicion that sometime, somewhere, he had. He wasn’t sure why’d he’d have needed to jack a ship, though, not when he’d owned a damned freighter, and before that worked on the crew of one. 

“Instinct is telling me yes,” he said after a moment. “Probably not from a gangster, but I think I’ve done it. I’m sure he has the thing locked down nice and tight, but thankfully Davik doesn’t own T3 here,” he patted the Droid reassuringly on the head. “I do. And T3 is better at getting in and out of systems than any slicer I’ve ever met.” 

T3-M4 chripped in gratified surprise, spinning his head to look at Canderous, who was staring back, nodding. “Security is tight, but something tells me that we don’t have to worry about that. I’m confident we can handle any idiot foolish enough to try to challenge us. Even Calo Nord.” 

“What can you tell me?” Cass asked. “About Nord and Davik? I haven’t heard much since coming here, though I’ve seen Nord’s work.” 

Nord was a good shot, as Cass recalled, but his strategy wouldn’t work any anyone more experienced than cocky young gangsters or hapless civilians. It took more than any icy cold voice and an indifference to death and suffering to frighten Cass.

No, at this point, no one short of the Dark Lord himself could bring Cass to his knees in terror. 

“Nord is Davik’s new guy. We’re trying to convince Davik to take you on the same way, give you an interview, so you’ll have to make sure he knows you’re just as ruthless as Nord, if not more,” Canderous said as the speeder hung a left, toward the high rise mansions of the upper city. “I wouldn’t worry much, though. You already killed Brejik, who gave Davik nothing more than chump change, and “let the Jedi escape”.” The Mandalorian snorted. “Nord was just a hunter before he came here, and I don’t mean humans. He hunted big game on wild worlds, like Dathomir and Kashyyyk. You’ve already made more than enough of a name for yourself for the Exchange to take notice, and you have a criminal background. It’s enough to make an impression.” 

“So what you’re saying is that I should just be my normal, charming self and not worry about the Princess and her insistence that someone with the sort of talents I have should be more ethically responsible,” Cass said, glancing toward Canderous and grinning. “Show Davik my bad side?”

“It’s only bad if you follow the Jedi way of thinking,” Canderous said with another sort. “Otherwise it’s just practical. No one else in the Galaxy besides the Jedi is stupid enough to pick up a lethal weapon and think that you shouldn’t kill people with it.” 

Cass didn’t comment, though it was reassuring to hear. Bastila’s logic was only sound if the people they were fighting were innocents, in some degree. The Sith in the Headquarters hadn’t been innocent, and either was Davik, though by that logic…

He supposed he wasn’t innocent either.

He shook his head.

No, there was a big difference between killing and murdering innocent people and stealing and smuggling illegal drugs for profit. Cass knew who he was, and he was  **nothing** like that Sith. 

“Just do what you have to,” Canderous said when it became clear that Cass wasn’t going to respond. “I’m sure as hell not going to judge you. It would be a waste of my time and yours when we both need to work together to survive.” 

Cass nodded as the Droid slowed down and pulled up to a small docking port, high above the Tarisian crust. Raking his fingers through his shaggy hair, Cass caught a glimpse of himself in the shiny chrome support beams and frowned, thinking that he had never looked so bedraggled in his life. At least the man who was going to meet infamous gangster and “entrepreneur” Davik Kang looked like a criminal, with his long hair and his scruffy, uneven beard. 

It was probably more believable for a spacer to look like he’d just spent weeks in the Lower City’s roughest cantinas than to be clean shaven and well-dressed. He almost couldn’t believe he was actually a Republic Soldier… if he’d ever thought of himself as one in the first place. 

As it was, he didn’t have to wait long to be greeted by Davik, who walked out to meet them, his arms spread wide. “Canderous! This has to be the man I’ve heard so much about, the one who took down Brejik!” 

Davik, a portly man probably only a decade and a half Cass’ senior, turned to him with a smile on his wide face. It struck him as genuine, the old fashion gangster type that would be eaten alive by the Black Sun’s Vigas just because his ruthlessness was contingent on people crossing him during business transactions. 

Probably why the Exchange was centered on Nar Shaddaa. 

“Cassus Jaylen,” Cass said as he stuck out a hand for a handshake, Davik seizing it firmly and shaking it like he was trying to be intimidating. “Sorry about the Jedi. They’re slippery little schuttas. I was hoping I could bring her to you myself and end this damn blockade, but I think I did the next best thing.” 

T3-M4 rolled forward at his cue, beeping almost timidly. Cass placed a reassuring hand on his head and offered Davik a smile. “The Sith’s Launch Codes.” 

Davik pulled away and slapped his hands together, grin widening. “Great! You know, when Canderous first told me about you, I wasn’t sure what to think, but the more I hear, the more I like you. I think you’d be a great addition to the Exchange. We’re always looking for ambitious men, women, and aliens of all shapes and sizes to join our ranks.” 

“Well I’m always looking to improve my lot in life,” Cass said. “So I’d be interesting in hearing more about your offer.” 

“Excellent! Then tonight we dine together, and after that, I’ll give you a little tour of the place,” Davik looked like he had just been awarded the Cross of Glory, especially when his eyes raked over T3. “You’ll stay the night and tomorrow, we can discuss business. I won’t take no for an answer!”

“You’re just as generous as I’d always heard,” Cass said, glancing toward Canderous. “I almost didn’t believe it, not with a lot of the freelancing work I’ve done in the past. Maybe the Exchange has a bit more to offer than some of my past business partners.” 

Criminals came in all sorts and sizes, Cass thought as Davik grinned and agreed about how the Exchange served those who served it well, clasping him on the back and motioning for Canderous to follow. Just like anyone else, Criminals had their reasons for acting, that much he knew.

For Davik, it was clearly profit and the chance to live comfortably and do as he wished. He seemed the sort apt to award his friends and punish his enemies, the sort who always wanted to be in control. 

For Canderous, who spoke about the Neo Crusaders and their movement like it was something to be proud of, it was probably the chance to relive his glory days. 

And for Cass… Well, it had been about the pursuit of adventure, once, but he wasn’t sure if that was going to be _ enough _ anymore. Not when he thought about how  _ right _ helping the Underworlders had felt, not when he thought about the impact of his own guilt at doing the  _ wrong _ thing. 

What that might mean frightened him, and he pushed the thoughts from his mind as he followed Davik into the high rise complex, T3 at his heels, beeping timidly. He didn’t want to give up his freedom,  _ he couldn’t _ . 

One good deed would have to be enough for a lifetime. 

He couldn’t imagine himself ever chained by someone else’s rules. 

Dinner and the tour went by without a hitch, Cass relying on his old charms to get him through the night. It was easy to play the scoundrel when he had spent years being the scoundrel, before someone on Coruscant had convinced him to clean up his act and throw in his lot with the Republic. 

They even got to see Davik’s “baby”, the Ebon Hawk, a tiny little freighter that looked like she had some zip to her, of obvious Corellian make. Of course, he bragged about how he alone had the hangar codes, but the good thing about computer systems was that you could steal codes if you knew what you were doing. 

By the time that Davik sent them to their room with the provision that they not leave the guest wing, Cass’ mind was already in high gear. He had carefully watched the facility, and knew for a fact that it was patrolled at night by Davik’s personal guards, in no small part thanks to Davik’s bragging.  

Unfortunately for them, that made either stealth or incapacitation of the personnel necessary. Stealth would be better, but it had never been Cass’ strongsuit, and it was even more difficult with Droid in tow, and they needed T3 to get the hangar doors open. No matter what, it looked like they were going to have to make a bit of a scene. 

“Do you have any extra weapons, Mr. Walking Arsenal?” Cass asked, having come to the complex without any sort of weapon. “I can take one from one of the guards, but I’d rather not go into a gunfight with my bare hands.” 

“Got an extra blaster you can have,” Canderous said, pulling the small pistol from a holster on his hip. “If you want a melee weapon, you’re going to have to shoot someone and take it from him, though. You remember where the computer room is? I actually spend most of my time in the Lower City cantinas. This kind of living’s not my thing.” 

“I remember where it is,” Cass said, watching as Canderous swung his large blaster cannon from his shoulder. “Follow my lead on this?”

“That was the plan,” Canderous replied. “Let me do what I do during battle, and I’ll follow your lead. You’re the one with the big plan.” 

“It’s not big. It’s pretty straightforward. And with all the commotion we’re going to cause, I’m expecting to have to kill Davik to get the Hawk.” He strapped the blaster pistol to his side. “Never seen a black freighter before. I have to question the taste and common sense of someone who paints a smuggling vessel that color. She stands out.” 

“Probably the same cocky bastard who made her fast,” Canderous said. “But I don’t care what color she is as long as she can get us off this rock. I’m sick of killing people for Davik. There’s no honor in what he does.” 

Cass felt a pang of something in his chest for a moment as he thought about the Mandalorians, disgraced and scattered across the galaxy, reduced to mercenaries and bounty hunters. A lot of them had probably been those things before Fett drafted them into the army and made them Neo Crusaders, so it was just going back to business as usual, but he was pretty sure that the other Mandalorians had it rough. He couldn’t imagine what it had to be like to lose that much of your identity, even if your identity was steeped in combat and bloodshed. 

“Well, we have something in common, then,” Cass said as the door opened. “I’m sick of having my skills being taken advantage of by someone who doesn’t appreciate what I’m really capable of.” 

He thought of Bastila, and then, briefly, about the recruiter in the dim Coruscant cantina. 

“Then let’s find a way to work for ourselves,” Canderous said. “Today is a good day for someone else to die.” 

The guest wing was quiet, everyone tucked away into their rooms, completely empty except for Canderous, Cass, and little T3. As it turned out, most of the place was abandoned, even the large, spacious corridors beyond the guest wing. The high security places probably had more guards stationed at them, like the computer room, which was in the exact opposite direction of the hangar.

Whether it was close or far, the result was going to be blaring klaxons and a mad dash toward the Ebon Hawk. 

Shockingly enough, everything did go relatively smoothly, in part because Canderous was good at fighting and didn’t hesitate to kill the people who stood in their way. He fought with typical Mandalorian efficiency and brutality, even if he lacked the grace of the Princess or Carth’s keen accuracy. Cass found that he and Canderous fought well together, especially when Cass was finally able to forsake the blaster for a vibroblade he picked off a corpse, power coupled with finesse. 

Together, it didn’t take long for them to cut a swath through Davik’s guards and hold the computer room while T3 got to work trying to crack the encryption. Canderous stood watch at the door, relaxed in a way that told Cass he was primed for combat, as if Cass himself were intimately familiar with the habits of Mandalorian warriors. 

T3 beeped away while he worked, commenting on the nature of the encryption. Cass was quickly discovering that the little utility droid was developing quite the streak of sarcasm, probably thanks to Carth and himself in no small part. He didn’t mind, because it was a bit comforting, especially when they were three people facing an entire facility armed only with a stun arm, a blaster cannon, a vibroblade, and a blaster pistol. 

Oh, and the Force, if Cass were being honest with himself. 

“Almost done?” Canderous asked from the doorway. “I don’t know how much time we have left until Davik figures out what’s going on. We don’t have time to waste hanging around when he might fly away underneath our noses.” 

T3 beeped the affirmative as he turned away from the terminal, spinning in a victory circle as Cass patted him reassuringly on the top of his head. “He says that he’s opened the hangar doors, which means we should book it as fast as we can before Davik closes them again.” 

Before he’d even finished his sentence, Canderous was out the door and firing off rounds from his cannon, his feet pounding the metal floors of Davik’s manor. They moved as quickly as they could, T3 locking a few doors behind them for good measure, stalling their pursuers as they burst into hangar…

And Cass doubled over in sudden, all-consuming pain that radiated out from his chest.

He pushed himself to his feet as the first tremors shook the hangar and the sounds of bombs exploding echoed through the large, cavernous room. Terror momentarily gripped him, until he was grounded by Canderous’ fingers digging into his arm and the sound of approaching footsteps at the sharp, staccato pace of panicked running. 

His chest still ached, but he immediately reached for his vibroblade as the lights flickered above him and the floor beneath him shook. “Kriff,” he cursed underneath his breath, trembling with the knowledge of what was happening. “Malak is bombing the damn planet! Canderous, we have to--” 

“I told you not to trust them, Boss. Never let a rat into your house and expect him not to try to steal your food.”

The voice was quiet, but even with the sounds of distant explosions, it was potent… and familiar. 

“Look, Nord, it’s not personal,” Canderous said as he began to charge his blast, glancing toward Cass. “I just can’t work for a two bit thug anymore. I’m better than this. No offense, Davik.” 

Cass was still reeling from the feeling in his chest, which still felt like it was being stabbed with each blast, but he pushed the pain from his mind to concentrate on the task at hand. Carefully, he loosed his blade, circling around while Nord, Canderous, and Davik talked. They didn’t have time for this!

“No offense taken. It’s just business,” Davik said conversationally. “I’m sure you’ll understand why I’m offended that you and your little friend have tried to take advantage of my hospitality, though. I should have known you’d try to take my ship.” 

“Like you said,” Canderous said as he fired off a round that sent both Davik and Nord scrambling to hit the floor of the hangar, “It’s just business.” 

Cass scrambled for Davik first, but Nord caught his ankle, sending him tumbling face first toward the floor. He caught himself with one hand, hissing when he heard a sick snapping sound, and lashed out at Nord with one leg, for once grateful for his long reach as he felt his foot connect with Nord’s face. Scrambling away from Nord and to his feet, Cass gripped his blade with his good hand and looked down at Davik, hesitating until he noticed the blaster pointing at his stomach.

Bastila’s words didn’t mean anything when someone was actively trying to kill you. 

With a grunt, Cass shoved his blade into Davik’s chest and pulled it away, spinning around just in time to see Nord struggling to his feet. It didn’t take him long to notice the thermal detonator in the hunter’s hand, even as he raked a hand across his face to catch the blood falling from his broken nose. 

“If I’m dying, I’m taking you with me,” Nord said as the tiny silver cylinder began to hum and glow red, Cass’ heart getting caught in his throat. 

“To the ship!” he shouted over the sound of distant explosions, growing ever closer. “Get to the kriffing ship!” 

Its blast resistant hull was the only thing capable of withstanding that kind of firepower. 

He heard T3 yowl in terror as the little droid slid across the slick flooring toward the gangplank, which was when Cass realized that the hangar door wasn’t open. Frantically, he looked around, his eyes landing on the large lever on the opposite wall, too far way for Cass to make it to in time. After the detonator went off, the ground might be too unstable for him to walk across, effectively trapping them in a tower, doomed to die when it collapsed. 

Calo Nord grinned. 

“What the hell are you doing, Jaylen? Get in the damn ship!” Canderous called out from behind him, already scaling the gangplank as Cass head darted desperately between the switch and the Ebon Hawk.

He took a deep breath.

No.

He knew what he had to do. 

Taking a deep breath, Cass closed his eyes and let the increasingly high pitched whining of the detonator and Canderous’ shouts fade into the background. Even the pain in his chest faded, the explosions distant echos that couldn’t touch him through his veneer of calm and concentration. 

He let the feeling he’d first remembered encountering during the swoop race fill him, the certainty that he could do what he wanted if only he just believed he could, if he trusted in the nebulous swirling of energy around him. The same energy that pulsed in his chest and numbed out the throbbing in his arm. The same energy that sung from every living being and surrounded every non living thing until it permeated all of existence. 

When he heard the click and then the hum of the hangar doors as they opened, he knew he’d succeeded, spinning around to dive into the Hawk’s interior, leaving Calo Nord stricken and holding a thermal detonator. The moment he was inside, Canderous’ hand slammed the button to raise the gangplank, and not a moment too soon were the sealed safely inside as the sound of an immediate explosion made Cass’ ears ring, but little more. 

If they had been outside, their organs would have been liquified for sure. 

“Did you just…” Canderous began, shaking his head as he cut himself off. “Nevermind. That’s a stupid question. At this point, Jaylen, I’m not even surprised. Heard from the Republic stooge yet?” 

Cass glanced down toward his holocom, which was flashing with a single notification, from Carth. 

**Terminal 5-G. Hurry. Sith are bombing Taris. No time.**

“I hope you can deal with a one-armed co-pilot,” Cass said, his other arm in searing pain, hanging limply at his side, “because we need to get to terminal 5-G and then jump to hyperspace as soon as we leave atmo.”

T3 was already speeding toward the cockpit, where he was surely inputting the launch codes that would give them clearance to leave planet and mark them as a “clean” vessel. What Sith were on base were probably trying to evacuate, Cass thought, even through the pain. 

“I can manage. Let’s go.” 

Cass wasted no time following him toward the cockpit. He would have time to be in pain later. 

* * *

The moment Bastila arrived on the ship, she immediately set to healing his arm, yelling at someone to get to the gun turret. Canderous, sick of being in the cockpit, immediately darted down a hallway behind them as Mission set about joining Carth in the cockpit in case he needed a second pair of hands.

“How did you manage to break your arm?” Bastila scolded him, her dark brow furrowed as she hovered over him, hands emitting a pale yellow glow. 

“Well, it happened because a bounty hunter tripped me and I used it to catch myself,” Cass said, wincing, though not from the pain in his arm -- his chest still ached, and he gripped at it unconsciously with his free hand. 

The ship lurched into space, going higher and higher as its powerful thrusters propelled it through atmo and up into the abyss above. Out the porthole, Cass could see Taris bathed in a sea of red and black, reports of Telos flickering through his mind, the tragedy of the situation making his chest throb harder. 

He didn’t notice that Bastila’s hands had stilled until she spoke. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”

The Hawk shook and the lights flickered before he could answer. Cass braced himself against the wall as he stared at Bastila, the shock on his face causing something in her features to smooth over for the first time since they’d met. 

“Feel it?” He asked, breathless from the way the little black freighter rocked in the wake of the Sith’s attack. 

“The death on Taris. Such a disturbance in the Force sends ripples…” She looked over him, her pale eyes almost sympathetic, for once. “The way you clutched at your chest just now… I thought…”

“That’s what that was?” Cass asked, realizing the answer even as he spoke. 

Honestly, what else could it be? He’d doubled over like he’d been physically hit before the bombs started to drop in his immediate vicinity. He’d felt something pass through him, a wave of pain, and terror, and then… nothing. And even now he could still feel the echoes of fiery death on his skin, enough that the cold interior of the Hawk made him shiver. 

“Kriff, I…” He began to shake, the shock of what he’d just done finally settling in, reaching his good hand out to thread it through his hair. “I used the Force to open the hangar door, and now I’m sensing mass death through it? What… what’s happening to me?”

Bastila was quiet for a moment, her hands still glowing as she mended his arm. Around him, the Ebon Hawk sounded loud, the shouts of Carth from the cockpit and Canderous from the turrets and the bombardment of gunfire from all sides almost drowning out his thoughts. And then... Then the ship made that one telltale lurch as the world around them fell into utter silence. 

It was only then that Bastila responded. 

“This is why I think you should speak to the Council, not necessarily to train to become a Jedi, but to see if there’s some sort of solution that suits you,” she said as she pulled her hands away, the glow vanishing. “I can sense your fear and uncertainty. Those are paths toward the Dark Side whether you’re a Jedi or not.” 

He stared at his hands, his long fingers, the small hairs on his knuckles, and frowned deeply. “You’d think that I’d have some clear memory of being like this if I were really Force Sensitive, but it’s not like I can deny the evidence.” Cass sighed heavily. “Not when it’s with me at every corner. I’ve always had some sort of natural ability, uncanny luck and great reflexes, but this is… different. I’ve never had this sort of control.” 

“Maybe being… being near a Jedi drew it out?” Bastila asked. “We were brought onto the Spire around the same time, and I certainly don’t want to take credit for your natural proclivity, but it is possible my presence drew your abilities to the surface.” 

It didn’t sound quite right to him, but it was the only explanation he really had, so he nodded numbly in agreement. “It’s pulling me toward a future I don’t want,” he said, almost under his breath. 

“Sadly, Cassus, we don’t always get a choice,” Bastila said in a voice that made him actually think she sympathized with him, just soft enough and sad enough for him to believe her. “Nothing is set in stone yet, but the Force has a way of making the future it wants, even if we aren’t listening.”

“Well that’s ominous,” he sighed. “And not helpful at all. But… thanks. For the arm. For… telling me the truth.” He paused and thought about the destruction on the surface of Taris, long behind them now, enough that he knew that it would feel like a nightmare by morning. Enough that it would haunt him for the rest of his life, that week on that planet, where all the good he’d done had meant nothing, in the end. “And thanks for… pointing out that I’d killed a defenseless man. You… you were right.”

He took a rasping breath as Bastila looked at him, confused.

“If I kill people who aren’t a threat to me, I’m just like Malak.”

In his mind’s eye he saw Malak, bald and pale with listless and cruel grey eyes, like the man in the dream, faded blue tattoo standing out against sickly skin. He could picture him sneering as he gave the order to bomb the planet, just to ensure Bastila didn’t elude him again. 

“If I give up on my morals just for the sake of efficiency… then I’m no better than Revan.”

He could still see the Sith, handless on the ground. He’d been trying to reassure himself all this time, but seeing the planet burning red had felt like a cruel punctuation mark. It had brought an end to his thoughts of self pity for being told he was wrong, and reminded him that it was Revan’s phantom voice who had told him to cut out the weak parts of himself.

And that he had responded that compassion wasn’t a weakness, only to kill that man less than forty-eight hours after his nightmare. 

“As… As long as you change,” Bastila said, her voice soft with surprise, though she didn’t sound sure. “that is what matters. Get some rest. We have at least three days before we arrive on Dantooine, and I… I should see about contacting the Jedi Council there.” 

She stood, giving him a look that was long and meaningful but difficult to read, before turning and walking toward the cockpit, passing Mission as she went. Cass didn’t mention that the holoterminal was in the main corridor of the ship.

Mission passed him without a word, her face pale and morose.

He didn’t blame her, not when she’d just lost her home. The Beks, Thek, everyone, all gone, just like that, either dead or suffering in the smoldering ruin of Taris. Cass still wanted to talk to her like he had promised, but he didn’t think she was ready to talk, and that they all needed some time alone. 

At this point he just wanted to retire from his short military career and start a crew with Mission, Zaalbar, T3, and maybe Canderous, traveling the galaxy and looking for chances for profit. He didn’t know if he’d get it, and he couldn’t look at fighting the same way ever again, but maybe all the Force wanted was for him to give Bastila to the Jedi and be on his merry way. 

It felt like a vain hope, especially with the strange dreams still lurking at the back of his mind. 

Eventually, he got sick of sitting and staring out the porthole at the strange void of hyperspace, joining Carth in the cockpit. Carth looked at him when he entered, his expression grim, though he motioned for Cass to join him. 

Glad for some company, even if it was silent, Cass slipped into the co-pilot’s chair and stared straight ahead. 

It was a long time before either of them spoke, though it was Carth who broke the silence. 

“You were right when you called her a small star. I can’t see things going back to normal now, and I think both of us are in this for the long haul,” Carth’s voice was hollow, angry. “I can’t believe the Sith did it again, just for one person. Wasn’t one world enough?”

He didn’t say it, but he had to be thinking about Telos.

Thinking about the people he’d probably lost, if he was from there. 

“I don’t think it will ever be enough for Malak,” Cass confessed. “He’ll just go until he consumes the Galaxy with his power. Nothing will be left in his wake but sorrow and ash.” 

“He has to be stopped,” Carth said in a gravelly voice, running a hand over his beard as he stared into space. “How can a man who was once so great fall to this?”

“I don’t know. Even from a practical standpoint, even if you don’t consider the lives, it’s just a waste of resources,” Cass said and then sighed heavily, the ache of countless lives still burning in the center of his chest. “I… don’t understand the Force. I don’t understand how Malak can feel like this is his destiny, and I don’t know how the Jedi can be convinced he’s so wrong when they worship the same energy field.” 

“They say the Force can do terrible things,” said Carth, glancing toward Cass, the purple shadows under his eyes making him look infinitely older than thirty-some odd years. “They say it can change a person, that the power of the Force can erase someone’s mind. Maybe Malak and Revan went too deep. Maybe once you go that deep, there’s no going back.”

Cass didn’t say anything else, but something inside of him stirred at those words, thinking about the power of the Force and the inherent consequence of misusing that power. In his mind’s eye, he still saw Malak, but this time tall and young and proud as he might once have been, smiling and joking just like any young man would.

Was that really gone if you dipped your toes into the Dark Side? 

Not even Bastila seemed to believe that someone could realize their mistakes once they’d chosen to follow a path, not if the look on her face when he’d confessed to being wrong was any indication. 

So maybe that really was it. 

Maybe once you chose that path, there was no coming back. 

For some reason, Cass thought of Revan, tall and dark and full of hate so cold and fathomless that it was beyond comprehension, and hoped that he had realized his mistakes before Bastila had snuffed out the flame that had once burned so fiercely within him. 


	9. Part One; Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking through part one. Look forward to me posting more about Part Two, and Cass' adventures through the rest of space. Thankfully, there are only going to be about two chapters on Dantooine yet before we get to the rest of the Galaxy. 
> 
> I've been having a bit of a block with chapter ten, but I don't mind so much now that I'm almost through with it. I suspect things will go a lot faster once Cass becomes a Padawan instead of just an Initiate.

If Dantooine was quiet and pastoral, then the Conclave there was a beacon of warmth and noise on the otherwise rugged frontier of the Outer Rim farming world. Cass honestly hadn’t been expecting the Jedi to be so welcoming, but the moment that the Hawk’s gangplank lowered, the ragtag crew of the ship was immediately greeted by half a dozen people in robes who ushered them off to guest rooms and insisted on providing for their needs. 

It felt good to use a real ‘fresher that let him shower and shave, and it felt even better to sleep in a real bed. An entire day passed as Bastila slipped out of their lives and back into the waiting arms of the Jedi Council. The Hawk wasn’t allowed to leave, but they were allowed free reign of the common areas in the Conclave, and the Jedi were always willing to help, if they had questions. 

By the time Bastila came to fetch him for his first meeting with the Jedi Council the second afternoon after their arrival, Cass was feeling more refreshed than he had in what felt like ages. Even the expression on her face, contemplative and dour, couldn’t dampen his mood, nor her assertion that the Jedi wanted to see him rather than Carth, who was technically the highest ranking officer on Dantooine. 

In fact, his good mood persisted as she lead him through the complex hallways of the Conclave to the council chamber. 

He should have known it wouldn’t last the moment she’d knocked on his door. 

From the second  he walked into the council chamber, it was like all the warmth and air was sucked from the room. Breathing felt oppressive, and the expressions on the faces of the four men who occupied the room made him feel a bit like a man who had just walked in front of a magister, preparing for trial. 

He’d been near incarcerated for crimes in his life, and he’d never felt so judged as he did now, standing in front of four old men with worn faces and somber expressions. Cassus could almost sense the tension in the air, and realized after a moment that he was picking up on their emotional feedback, the uncertainty and caution of four men who had no reason to be wary of him… Unless Bastila had already told them he was… well. 

_ Force Sensitive.  _

He hated that they felt like dirty words. 

Their weight was almost enough to make him leave the presence of the four Jedi Masters staring down at him from the dais, but he stayed the course, setting his jaw and standing straight backed and defiant. There was a strange amount of satisfaction in watching the glances they exchanged when he stared back at them and refused to be cowed into submission.  

“So you are the young man that brought Bastila back to us,” said the little alien standing at the head of the small group of men, leaning over a wooden walking stick, his teal skin fading with age. “I am Master Vandar Tokare, Grand Master of the Jedi Council.” 

“Captain Cassus Jaylen,” he said in way of greeting, nodding his head, glancing toward Bastila at his side to find her staring almost mechanically forward. “Lieutenant Jaylen, sorry. I keep forgetting that I’m military now. Haven’t had my commission long.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Master Tokare said, offering him a weary looking smile that didn’t quite reach his large, dark eyes. His ears twitched before he bowed his head in acknowledgement, and turned his face toward the tall, elderly, red Twi’lek beside him.  “We all appreciate your efforts on the behalf of the Republic and the Order. We must be united now, more than ever, in the wake of the Sith brutality.” 

“I agree,” the Twi’lek said, his smile more sincere. “We’ve relocated here to Dantooine for the time being in order to hide ourselves from Malak’s fleet and protect Coruscant, but we are no less loyal to winning peace. Thank you. Bastila is essential to our efforts.” 

He bit down the insult  burning in the back of his throat, deciding that diplomacy was the best route. “Thank you, Master…”

“Zhar Lestin,” the man said, a flicker of sadness traveling across his features before he schooled it with fabled Jedi self-control. 

“Master Lestin,” Cass repeated, thinking about the Mandalorian Wars, and how these were likely the same Jedi who had decided to abandon the Galaxy five years ago, only to defend it now that their own Order was threatened. “I’m not going to let the Sith destroy the Galaxy. I know Jedi Knight Shan has been instrumental to the Republic’s few victories. It… It was my duty to bring her back, as a citizen of the Republic.” 

Even if he was  _ technically _ born on the Outer Rim. 

Beside him, Bastila froze slightly, glancing toward him with a hint of shock on her face. Her expression soon smoothed over, and she glanced toward her feet with a vaguely guilty expression before turning her attention back toward the Jedi Masters, none of whom seemed to have noticed the display. 

“Bastila tells us that you used the Force multiple times in your efforts to escape Taris and the Sith,” Master Lestin said. “Standing in your presence now, I can sense what she sensed.” 

“It’s true,” said the first of two old humans, his skin dark, eyes even darker, and oddly sad. “You are strong in the Force. Stronger than many I have met in my life, and many students with special potential pass through this Conclave.” 

The words made his jaw hang slack, and he struggled to close it, taking a deep breath. “Er… right. I don’t really understand how that’s possible, Masters, with full respect. If that were true, wouldn’t someone have noticed before Bastila?” 

“How many Jedi have you encountered in your life, before this moment?” It was the last human, the pale one, with his cold grey eyes, who spoke up in a clipped voice. “We’re increasingly rare, after Exar Kun took out half the Order. Revan did the same, and our young ones constantly abandon our cause for the Sith. There probably wasn’t anyone around to sense your potential, but either way, it’s too late now.” 

Cassus opened his mouth to interject, but Bastila beat him to it. “I mean no disrespect, Master Vrook, but this man cannot go untrained. I know it’s not traditional to train one so old… But he’s a liability otherwise.” 

His teeth audibly snapped together, the sound loud enough in the large, vaulted room that he suddenly found himself the focus of five different pairs of eyes. 

“He’s too old,” Vrook said firmly, his eyes drilling into Cassus. “The danger is too great. We can’t risk another Revan. Not again.” 

“Do we have a choice?” It was Master Lestin, standing particularly tall in the wake of Vrook’s words, though his eyes likewise never left Cass. “You can sense the air of destiny about him. Someone so powerful needs guidelines. He can’t go without.” 

“This is a matter for deep discussion,” Vandar said before Vrook could respond, cutting the human man off by holding up one, three fingered hand. “We must consult the will of the Living Force. Only then will we find our answer.” 

For the pause of a breath, all was silent, the gears in Cass’ head sliding into place as he took a step forward, his jaw set into an angry line. “And I don’t get a say? You get to decide my fate, just like that?” 

Their blank stares were enough of an answer. 

“I don’t  _ want _ your training.” He hissed under his breath, so angry that his long fingers had curled into fists at his side, white-knuckled. “Unless you have a reason to keep me around, you can’t make me stay. I’ll bust out of here, if I have to. I’m not going to be someone’s pawn.” 

“Such anger is exactly why we can’t train him,” Master Vrook said, looking at Cass with such distaste in his expression that Cass immediately felt his demeanour cool from fiery fury to dispassionate distaste. “He’d fall to the Dark Side, just like Revan. Surely you can see this.” 

“Looks like we agree on something -- I’d make a terrible Jedi,” Cass said flippantly. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to anything you have to say. Find someone else to train, I’m out. Expect me to be gone in two days. Good luck with your war.” 

He turned to go, looking back over his shoulder to find them all staring at him dumbfoundedly. Cass shook his head at them, strangely satisfied that he had cowed them into silence, and then took his leave. 

Kriffing  _ Jedi _ .

Kriffing  _ Force _ . 

He wanted to tear his hair out, to scream, but he had seen kids walking around this place more than once, and couldn’t bring himself to disturb their peace. What he planned on doing was going to the Hawk to get her ready for take off in a few days and fly to a world where he could find a job, even if he had to crew the ship with nothing more than a utility droid for help. 

His hands shook with anger again, feeling disgusted with himself for how easily he had been affected, deeply unsettled by the way they had been talking about him. It was like he hadn’t even existed, like what he would do was never in question. 

Cass was starting to hate the Jedi more than he already had, and he had hated them a lot for abandoning the Republic in the first place. At this point, he would be better off just trying to sabotage the Sith on his own if he wanted to make a real difference. 

The Jedi were about as effectual at stopping the Sith as they were at coming to decisions. 

Damn them and their patience.

Damn them excusing their inaction with their religion. 

**_Damn them all._ **

“Wait!” 

Cass spun around, finding Bastila walking toward him as quickly as her legs could carry her without being brisk enough to be considered a jog. He stopped only because the look on her face was… Not what he expected. There was no anger there, just… distress. 

He reminded himself that he had only known her for a handful of days, that she was young, and that he should give her the benefit of the doubt. 

“Listen--” he began, before she could say anything, but Bastila cut him off. 

“I… I didn’t intend for that to happen,” she admitted. “They asked to see you, and I only wanted to inform them of your status. I… I apologize. They’re not usually so rude, it’s simply… Everything has been so difficult lately, and with what happened to Taris…” 

Cass didn’t have it in his heart to be angry with her, running his hand over his face before he exhaled. “We’re just not going to see eye to eye, your bosses and I. I’m pretty sure we both hate the tragedy of Taris just as much.” He inhaled sharply. “I felt it. In my chest. I can’t stop thinking about it.” Cass shook his head and looked away from her when her eyes widened ever so slightly, and she looked her age, youthful, a bit afraid… Untested. “They wouldn’t appreciate my methods, anyway.”

“You’re likely right,” she said, the admission sounding difficult for her. “You’re the dashing rogue, and we’re… Jedi.” Bastila looked into his eyes, and for the first time, Cassus sensed no fear or anger, just youthful sincerity. 

It made his breath still in his throat, because he was quickly realizing just how inexperienced she was in comparison to him, and something about her… He wasn’t sure, but it reminded him of  _ himself _ . 

“Please, just consider training,” she said. “The Force surrounds you. Even I can see your destiny, and I’m hardly a Jedi Master.” 

“Dashing?” he asked with a smile, trying to diffuse the situation. “I had no idea you felt that way about me.” 

Her face turned red with anger more than with flattery, he suspected, and he held up his hands in surrender. She apparently didn’t understand having a sense of humor, which shouldn’t really surprise him, considering that she was raised here, among the humorless, no fun, Jedi. “Relax. It was a joke. I’ll… think about it, Bastila, but unless something happens to change my mind, something that convinces me that training is necessary, I can’t stay.” 

She took a deep breath and nodded grimly, way more serious than someone her age ever had a right to be, even if it was war time. “I understand. I… Know it doesn’t matter to you, but I’ll do my best to keep you informed about the Council’s decision.” 

She turned to go, but he stopped her, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. Bastila’s head snapped back toward him, her expression stricken, almost frightened, and he removed his hand instantly, his gut churning strangely, throat growing tight. 

Was she really… _ afraid _ of him? 

It was the second time he’d had the impression that she was. 

“You’re… good at what you do,” he said lamely. “I… can see why you’re the Jedi’s favorite. I… uh… I’m sorry. For whatever it is I did.” 

She didn’t say anything, her expression a strange mixture of confliction and confusion, before she turn and left wordlessly, heading back toward the council chamber, leaving him standing alone in the hall, feeling like an idiot. 

* * *

Canderous was standing outside of the Ebon Hawk with Mission and Zaalbar, staring up at the little black and red ship, his arms crossed over his chest. T3 was zipping around their ankles and appeared to be running some kind of diagnostic on the ship. Even from here, Cass could hear him happily chirping, almost like whistling while he worked.

“Oh, hey, Flyboy,” said Mission, waving at him; she seemed to be recovered somewhat from her days mourning on the ship. “The three of us were just talking about what we’re gonna do when they finally let us leave snorseville.” 

“Yeah? And what’d you come up with?” He shrugged off his red bantha leather jacket and tossed it over one shoulder, overheating after his tense conversation with the Jedi Council. “Hope you’re planning on including me.” 

“The Old Man here and I figure that none of us have much of a place to go,” Mission said, Canderous snorting at her nickname. “We figure we should dump Captain Galaxy and start our own smuggling business. You already have experience, and I’ve already decided that you’re teaching me the ropes, so it makes sense for me and Big Z to tag along.” 

“I did say we’d talk about that,” Cass replied. “And the way things are shaping up? We shouldn’t be here but a few more days. I’m perfectly ready to never see another damn Jedi in my life.”

Canderous laughed at that. “These Jedi pale in comparison to the Jedi who fought in the Mandalorian Wars. I figure with your stupid parlor trick, they’ve probably been trying to convince you to join their little club, but you seemed too smart to do that. Glad to know I was right.” 

“Stupid parlor trick?” Mission’s curiosity was insatiable, and Zaalbar’s gaze mirrored her child-like interest. 

“Uh… I’m slightly Force Sensitive. Not a big deal.”

“You opened a blast door with the power of your mind,” Canderous interjected. “As far as I figure, it’s an advantage in any fight as long as you know what you’re doing. If you stay out of my mind, you can do whatever you want with it.” 

Mission looked apt to shout about what he’d done, but Cass cut her off. “I flipped a switch. Canderous means I flipped a switch to open a blast door. I don’t think I could pry open one with my… will. It’s not exactly your mind. I don’t know how to explain it.” 

He sighed as Zaalbar barked a laugh and shook his head, reaching out a massive paw to clap him gently on the back. 

“Yeah, laugh it up. If you were Force Sensitive, you’d realize how much of a pain in the kriffing ass it is.” Cass grumbled, rubbing his back where Zaalbar had hit him. “Anyway, if you want to form a merry crew of smugglers, I’m fine with that. I wanted to suggest something like it, actually. If we can get something profitable from all this and find a way to start over, I’m fine with deserting the Republic Military.” 

“Can’t say I’ll stay forever, but it has to be better than the soul sucking work that Davik had me doing.” Canderous sniffed and rubbed his thumb against the thick, dark stubble that contrasted his salt and pepper hair perfectly. “You’re an interesting guy. It would be a shame to bail on you before getting to a more profitable planet.” 

“Not like I have anywhere to go back to,” Mission said, her voice only catching on the last syllable. “And besides, I have a brother to look for. He’s out here somewhere in the Galaxy and I’m going to find him. I lost my home and now that I’m finally off Taris… I… I mean.” She glanced almost shyly toward Cass, and for a moment he remembered that she actually was a teenager, probably looking for some form of adult approval. “If that’s okay with you,  _ Captain  _ Flyboy.” 

“Why the hell not?” Cass shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t get in the way of finding a worthy cause to fight for and making a living wage? Do whatever you want. I’m sure T3 can help you track him down. Little guy has a talent for slicing.”

The droid beeped enthusiastically. 

Mission grinned widely and gave Zaalbar a cheeky thumbs up. 

“You trying to butter me up besides, if you have any extra spending money, stock up on whatever you need while we’re here. We need to get the ship ready for departure in two days. I’m not spending a moment longer on this rock than I have to.”

Later, Cass told himself, later he’d have a real talk with Mission about Taris and Canderous about his goals, but right now just getting off this planet and into a better port was his primary goal. He really couldn’t wait to leave Dantooine, the Jedi, and this whole ordeal behind him. 

Except he also knew he couldn’t, and whether his new crew wanted him to or not, he couldn’t just for the sake the Republic on the grounds of their incompetence. 

It wasn’t their fault their heroes had turned on them, after all, no matter how weak they were. 

He could still feel the echoes of Taris’ demise in his chest, aching at his core. 

Revan’s mask flashed in his mind and he shook his head of the images, sighing. 

“I’m going to go talk to Onasi. I’m fine ditching him here to let the Republic pick him up, but I feel like I owe him some kind of formal resignation from my post,” he offered his companions a smile. “My comm is on. If you need me for anything, just beep me, but we should be fine in this Enclave. I doubt anyone is going to pop out around the corners.” 

“Not unless they’re wearing robes,” Canderous snorted. “Go talk to your Captain. We’ll see you later. Come on,  _ Aka _ .” 

“What does that mean, Old Man?” 

Canderous just laughed, and Cass joined him as he walked away, shaking his head. Leave it to Canderous to come up with ridiculous Mando’a wordplay for Mission’s name. 

It didn’t take long for Cass to find Carth, who was sitting quietly in the garden courtyard with the massive fountain, staring up at it. He looked up when Cass sat beside him him and offered him a tired smile, tipping his head back. 

“Going to leave the military?” He asked, not sounding at all bitter, just… resigned. 

“I’m not good at the fighting on the front lines sort of thing” Cass said, staring into the sparkling, clear water of the fountain, listening to the sound it made. “That being said, I’m kind of caught between a rock and a hard place. The others seem pretty eager to leave this behind them, but after seeing that…?” Cass ran his fingers through the strands of his dark hair. “I need to do something. I’m… uh, asking if you’d be interested on having a freelance contractor to do jobs that protocol won’t let you do, necessarily.” 

Carth stared at him blankly for a moment, and then laughed. “Really? You… you’re asking if you can freelance for the Republic military? You know we couldn’t pay you, right? Not unless you… became a privateer or something like that.” Carth rubbed his stubble, his shoulders shaking, smile wide. “If you give me your commchannel, I can talk to my superiors about getting you some kind of immunity in return for your occasional assistance.” 

“Sure,” Cass said. “Immunity is a small price to pay for patriotism. And I want to,  **need** to, help. Whatever way I can.” He pulled out his holocom, transferring the permanent number to Carth. 

For a moment, they sat in silence before Carth spoke, his brow furrowed deeply as he stared into the chuckling fountain. “My wife and son died on Telos.” His voice was as hollow as his gaze, his emotions betrayed by the way his throat jumped as he swallowed. “My mentor, a man I had trusted, turned against the Republic and killed them and billions of others. Telos is a shell now, a bombed out corpse. I’m not sure why I’m telling you this. Maybe you just seem like the kind of person who will actually listen, but... I’m just…” 

Carth’s anger, his pain, it made a lot more sense in the wake of that information, and Cass felt… guilty for being angry at him in the past. For a time, he didn’t say anything, letting Carth’s words struggle and die, responding only when they choked off completely. “It’s not your fault. No one could have known, Carth, not a single kriffing person. As I recall, everyone was terrified that Revan and Malak had died at Malachor V for an entire year, and then they came back with ships and weapons and people started throwing themselves at the Sith cause rather than be consumed by Revan’s ambition.” 

“That’s a good way to put it,” Carth said. “Doesn’t change that I feel like I failed them both, like I wasn’t there when they  _ needed _ me, which isn’t something you could get unless you’re a father, but… Yeah. His ambition. Ever hear him speak in person?” 

Cass let Carth change the subject, not pushing him too far. If… they ever saw each other again, Carth would bring the topic up if he wanted to, on his own. No point in harassing him. 

“No, can’t say I have. I haven’t even seen recordings.” Cass shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “I was quite a bit more self-absorbed in the past. Hard to pay attention when you’re caught up in personal drama. I just tried to ignore what was going on.” 

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Carth admitted, smiling a little bitterly. “Thinking about how persuasive he was even now kind of gets under my skin. He talked and a room listened, whether it was filled with ten people or ten thousand. None of us ever saw the face behind that mask, but it didn’t matter. Revan wasn’t a person.” The captain breathed out a sigh, his brow furrowing again. “Revan was a belief. And we all believed, because he never made a promise he didn’t keep.” 

Cass didn’t say anything, sensing Carth had more to say, a lifetime of the experiences of a career soldier. He couldn't sympathize, he was just a smuggler, but… A part of him… He wanted to know more about Revan. The man never ceased to be mentioned, so much that it felt like his memory was following Cass around.

So much that his ghost lingered at the back of Cass’ mind, infecting his nightmares, making him question himself. 

There had to be  _ more _ to it, some  _ connection _ . 

He just… didn’t know what. 

“Honestly, it’s hard to believe he’s gone,” Carth admitted, wry smile tugging up the edges of his lips. “It’s hard to picture him dying. I hate him for what he did, but it’s like hating a political ideology. You hate all the things that it embodies. It’s hard to accept that he was just a man who could bleed. Malak was never like that. We always saw his face, saw him  _ fall _ , but Revan…” The man rubbed the back of his head. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re right. Revan consumed everything with his ambition… and that ambition even consumed him, in the end. I worry about what his ideas will do to the rest of the Galaxy. That, even more than my desire for revenge… That’s why stopping the Sith is so important.” 

Carth paused and shook his head. 

“Revan is a belief that transcends death. Unless we destroy the Sith completely, the Galaxy will never be safe.” 

“Was he really like that?” Cass asked, feeling a strange sense of emptiness bloom in his chest, a sensation without a name. 

“No one knew what he was really like, except maybe his inner circle. I think that was the point, to seem superhuman,” Carth finally looked at Cass, his expression full of sorrow, a burden he’d long borne. “But in the end, he died alone. I don’t want to be like that, Cass. I don’t want to let anyone else I care about die alone. I already failed my family.” 

“I understand,” Cass said, reaching out and placing a hand on Carth’s shoulder. “You’re a man of conviction. I can respect that about you. I… don’t want to let the people I care about die alone, either. I’d throw myself in the fire if it meant saving everyone else.” 

“I just have a feeling this isn’t over,” Carth admitted. “Anyway, I’m sure you have other things to do. I’ll comm you when I know what command wants me to do. Hopefully, we can both make a difference.” 

“Thanks, Carth, for understanding,” Cass said as he stood. “And for the conversation.” He turned and paused, looking over his shoulder. “May the Force be with you,” he said, almost unaware as he walked away, Carth’s eyes staring after him with a strange intensity in their depths. 

* * *

They walked into the tomb-like structure, the four of them, Malak and Revan in the lead.

Cass knew right away that this wasn’t Darth Revan, necessarily, and that the other two men weren’t even aware of his presence, which was a bit of a relief from last time. This Revan was dressed in a brown robe, a  **_Jedi_ ** robe, and he felt… different, not angry or hateful. Instead, everything about him was tense, like he was standing at the edge of a very high precipice about to make the choice on whether to jump or walk away from the ledge to safety. 

“I can feel the power of this place,” Malak said, placing one large hand flat against the black stone of the wall, smooth and strangely reflective. “The Dark Side permeates it. It’s possible that our answers lie here.” 

Revan turned around, looking toward a Malak with healthy skin and vibrant eyes, the tattoos on his skull not yet faded and grey. “It’s funny that they’ve never questioned it,” Revan said from behind his mask, voice still a strange impression of speech, distorted. “This place, here all this time. I have a feeling about it, Malak. A good feeling.” 

In spite of Revan’s confidence, Malak seemed to hesitate for a moment, pulling away from the wall to look into the depths of the strange complex. His footsteps echoed as he walked toward Revan, standing beside him to stare into the darkness. “Are you sure?” He asked, his voice strangely quite, lacking the echoing quality of a moment before. “I know that sacrifices are necessary, that we both agreed to make them so that no one else would need to, but if we do this…” 

Malak glanced toward Revan, who was looking at him from behind the mask, feelings swelling between them like high tide. They were significant, a sense of trust, the desperate conviction of two determined young men, and a sense of anticipation and fear that swelled with each passing second. 

“There might not be a way to turn back,” Malak finally said, breaking the emotional tension, Revan’s shoulders relaxing as he exhaled a breath Cass didn’t realize he’d been holding. “This could change us forever.” 

Revan seemed to hesitate, a far cry from the Dark Lord on the cold bridge of that starship. There was still warmth in this man’s soul, a sense of concern for his friend, and a regard for consequences that might not be so easily recovered from. “I’m sure,” he said at last, reaching out to place his hand on Malak’s arm. “It’s just like you said…” Cass could hear his breath rasp through his teeth, even from behind his faceplate. “We have to do this. It’s the only way to overcome the Neo Crusaders.” 

Malak nodded, his eyes flashing for a moment with an expression Cass recognized as resignation before he grinned, clasping Revan’s hand in his own. “We’ve already come this far, I suppose. The two of us might as well push all the way through.” 

“Might as well,” Revan agreed, far too casual for a man about to Fall, pulling away to walk into the dark corridors, the shadows swallowing them both as the ground beneath Cass’ feet gave way. 

He cried out, black bursting into blinding gold and blue, suns staring like the eyes of a great serpent before he was plunged back into darkness, still falling. Around him, gnarled trees seemed to shoot up out of the ground, green so dark that they almost looked black, branches blotting out the sun before the world exploded into smooth silver and white arcs, interrupted only by an endless expanse of ocean. Blue twisted into red, fluidity forsaken for structure, cliffs framing titanic statues silhouetted against a bloody sky before a pair of hands caught his arm and wrenched him back. 

He cried out as his shoulder was dislocated, but found the time to be grateful even through the pain as the person heaved him back onto land, the world around them a soft greying white. It wasn’t until the throbbing subsided into a dream-like haze that he noticed who was staring down at him from above… The face of Bastila Shan, who he realized had been with them this entire time. 

With a shout, Cass woke up, his blankets clinging to him, sweat rolling down his neck. His heart thudded in his chest, and he immediately reached out for his shirt, cramming it over his head, fumbling with his shoes, and leaving the room to find Shan. 

_ It was her.  _

Really her, not just a figment of his imagination. He could feel it, somehow, knew it. 

His feet pounded the ground, heart thudding in his ears, moving quickly through the corridors, a few Jedi prowling the halls trying to stop him as he sped past. At this point, Darth Malak himself couldn’t have stopped Revan. 

Not only was the dream strange, but it had felt more real than the last ones, more like a memory than whatever the hell had been happening before. 

And she had  _ been there _ . 

He nearly intercepted her on the way to the Jedi council chamber, but she disappeared inside before he could stop her, the doors shutting behind her with a groan. They’d made eye contact, but she’d continued into the room anyway, and his hands pounded against the wall hard enough to jar his arms before he slid to the floor, his shoulders heaving. 

He’s seen her eyes in the hallway just now as he’d seen them in the dream, blue and startled, though for what reason she would be startled, he didn’t know. Cass swallowed thickly, his head pressed against the wall, shivering, realizing how quiet the early morning conclave was once his heart stilled. 

Goosepimples rose on his arms as he skooted backwards to sit against the opposite wall, staring at his feet, arms crossed securely over his chest. It was cold in the hallway, but the cold cleared his head and calmed him so that it wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep, woken only by the sound of the large doors groaning open. 

“You…” Bastila’s voice trailed off, and his head cleared as he looked up at her, limbs cramped awkwardly from sleeping on the ground long enough or the entire Enclave to change from pale pink to bright yellow. 

“You waited out here this entire time?” she asked, almost gently, walking toward him and holding out a hand to help him up. “I’m… I’m sorry. I had to speak to the Council about what happened immediately.”

Cass took her hand only because he was too groggy to think to do otherwise, a sudden wave of conflicting emotions shocking him awake. Anxiety, fear, but also a strange sense of certainty and determination, emotions that he knew didn’t belong to him. 

Bastila withdrew her hand as if he’d burned her. 

“I… I wanted a sign,” he said, instead of bringing up the sensation of feeling emotion that he knew had to belong to her. “And then I had that dream, and you were there. I… what does it mean? What the kriff was it supposed to mean?” 

Cass strung both his fingers through his hair, tugging at the locks, his hands shaking again as he drew several quick breaths in through his teeth.  “Why am I seeing things like this, Bastila? I…” Oddly enough, his panic suddenly stilled, a sense of self-assurance settling over him like a shroud. “This has something to do with stopping the Sith, doesn’t it? And the destiny that your Jedi Masters said they felt? But why can I feel what you feel, Bastila, why were you in my dreams?” 

“Who says they were your dreams?” Bastila asked, though she didn’t seem to have the energy to sound offended. “Arrogance isn’t… isn’t befitting of a Jedi.” 

“I don’t think that’s arrogance, and I’m not a Jedi, but…” Cass looked toward the doors of the council chamber. “I will be, won’t I?” 

He wanted to laugh hysterically, but choked back the sound. Cass didn’t want this, he didn’t want this at all, but everything inside of him was screaming that it was his destiny, that walking away could doom the Galaxy. As much as the thought of sacrificing his freedom disgusted him, made his skin crawl, the thought of the people of the Galaxy suffering because he was too afraid to accept some impossible responsibility was that much worse. 

“Come with me,” Bastila said, placing her hand on his arm, though not so long ago, she’d been withdrawing from him like he’d burned her. “They’ll want to speak to you about what we saw, and… And about why it happened.”

Cass nodded numbly, straightening his back as he walked into the council chamber, the door shutting with a mighty thud behind him. It felt an awful lot like a punctuation mark, a painful one that echoed through his bones and made them ache. 

Too late he realized how hellish he must look, disheveled, tired, but he somehow couldn’t bring himself to care as he stood before them. Instead, Cass let a sense of peace wash over him, one he wasn’t entirely certain belonged to him, but was all too happy to embrace. 

“Bastila has told us about what happened early this morning,” Master Vandar began, wasting no time. “You shared a dream about Revan, a dream about ruins that are located near the Enclave. We do not believe this is a coincidence. The Force has clearly chosen you both for the task at hand.” 

“And you want me to submit to the will and training of the Order because of it?” He asked, glancing toward Bastila at his side before taking a deep breath and steeling himself. 

“This is a mission for a Jedi, but before you can embark upon it, you must have the proper tools,” Master Lestin responded. “We want to give you those tools. The Sith must be defeated. I’m sure you understand.” 

He breathed in deeply a second time, glancing toward Master Vrook, whose face was hard and uncompromising. Cass didn’t think he’d be likely to interject, though, especially if he’d been outvoted. The Jedi Council worked by consensus, after all. 

“I understand,” he said, swallowing thickly, turning his attention back toward the other Masters. “I submit to the training of the Jedi Order... “ He couldn’t believe the words were coming out of his mouth, but even as he said them, a sense of  _ right _ filled him, even if he wasn’t pleased about it. “I just… I have a few questions.” 

“Very well,” Master Vandar moved forward, sitting on the edge of the dais, his legs crossed underneath him. “It is understandable that you have questions, given everything that’s happened in the past weeks.” 

“Why… Why is this happening?” He asked, motioning between himself and Bastila. “Why can I feel the things she feels? Why are we sharing dreams?” 

Bastila worried her lip between her teeth before she jumped to respond. “It’s a Force Bond. I… I thought it was forming on Taris, but I didn’t say anything. I suspected it might frighten you.”

“I’m frightened anyway,” Cass said, turning to look at her. “I’m just some smuggler from Deralia, and here I am, saddled with some incredible destiny. Finding out that we’re somehow… connected? That’s the least of my problems, honestly.” 

Awkward? Yeah. 

It was awkward. 

He didn’t really relish the thought of being aware of her emotions, especially because she didn’t seem all too comfortable around him, and the dream sharing was, frankly, disturbing. All that said, though, his primary concern now that the matter of their strange bond was settled was that he seemed to be chosen to follow in Revan’s footsteps, possibly literally. 

“Fear is the path to the Dark Side,” said Vrook, finally raising his voice. “You should cut it from your heart if you don’t want to end up like Revan. He betrayed the Order and all of his beliefs just for a taste of power.”

Cass turned his shocked eyes toward the Jedi Master his mouth opening and closing before he took a deep breath and furrowed his brow. “Are you warning me because I’m going to have to chase his memory across the galaxy? Or just because you’re concerned about my personal well being? Because I honestly doubt it’s the later.” 

To Vrook’s credit, he didn’t lie to Cass’ face. “It’s a concern to have an untested element travel across the Galaxy following the footsteps of the most infamous Dark Jedi of the last decade. You’re not ready to chase anything. Until you’ve satisfied all of us that you’re capable of traveling and facing the test ahead of you, you won’t be allowed to leave this planet.” 

“I  _ did _ agree to the training,” Cass’ said blandly. “There’s no need to threaten me.” 

“You agreed to become a Jedi,” Vrook responded bitingly. “This isn’t just agreeing to be trained, this is agreeing to a way of  _ life _ . Maybe if you didn’t take everything so flippantly, you’d understand that.” 

“We’ve known each other for less than twenty-four standard hours and already you’re telling me what my personality’s like.” Cass ran his hand over his face, took a deep breath, and schooled the rest of his reaction with great effort. “I can’t abandon the Galaxy to the Sith. Not after seeing Taris, f _ eeling _ Taris.” He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, dropping his hands to his side as he forced himself to relax. “I don’t want to give up my freedom, but I told you that I would do it, and I mean it.” 

“This won't be an easy path,” Master Vandar said, voice far softer than Vrook’s. “You will be tested beyond your wildest imaginings, young Cassus.”

“Especially for one so old,” Lestin agreed. “We don’t normally accept adults for training, but your circumstances are special.” 

“With all the respect due to your positions, Masters, I didn’t expect finding Bastila to be easy, either. If the Force is desperate enough to have to pull some smuggler out of his usual life, amplify his powers through some kind of strange Force mojo due to contact with a Jedi Knight, and give him strange dreams about a dead Sith Lord, I’d say the situation’s pretty desperate.” 

The Council members exchanged significant looks, but said nothing for a long moment. Cass couldn’t help but feel like his statement was being ignored, and resigned himself to get used to it. Maybe Bastila would be more willing to answer… If he got her angry enough for her tongue to slip. 

“Your training begins today, young Cassus,” Vandar said after a quiet moment. “There is no time to waste with so much at stake. Rely on Bastila. She is well-equipped to understand your struggles.” 

Cass glanced toward the Jedi Knight, who was looking back at him with determination in her pale blue eyes, and for a strange, swirling moment, he was certain he’d seen that look before. 


	10. Part Two; Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best chapter, but I think things are going to pick up from now on.
> 
> About to go to my first day of work. 
> 
> Talk to you all later. :)

“At first, I wasn’t really happy about this situation,” Mission said, watching as Cass sat in place, a small collection of kitchen utensils orbiting him like he was a small sun, “But you know? I think it’s worth it, just to see your progress.” 

“I’m sure being able to float mugs at the Sith will intimidate them,” Canderous said with a snort before a mug soared at him, hitting him squarely in the forehead. 

Cass’ lips twitched up into a smile, and he cracked open one eye, lowering himself back to the ground from where he had been hovering just above it. It wasn’t long before he was laughing, primarily at the confused and disgruntled expression on Canderous’ face, the sound bouncing around the small courtyard, deep and jolly. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, chuckles. My point still stands.” 

“The point isn’t to intimidate the Sith, Canderous,” Cass said, still smiling widely as he stood. “The point is to send someone competent and trained after the Sith. Unfortunately, they don’t have someone competent and trained.” He paused, brushing off the loose pair of pants he was wearing. “They have me.” 

“Aw, Flyboy, you’re selling yourself short,” Mission said, leaning farther back against the potted plant that shaded her. “You couldn’t even wiggle those mugs with your mind a month ago. Now you can jump nine feet in the air and lift boulders the size of Canderous’ ego.” 

“Watch it,  _ Aka _ ,” Canderous warned, Zaalbar chuckling in his Wookie way, Carth, nearby, shaking his head. “I’m a Mandalorian, remember? Those are fightin’ words.” 

“No arguing, children,” Cass said, his smile softening as he picked up his outer tunic from the ground and shrugged it back onto his shoulders. “Besides, I’m not moving anything with my mind. I’m moving them with the Force. Big difference.”

He might not have thought so a month ago, but things had really changed since he had agreed to train as a member of the Jedi Order. Cass hadn’t noticed it before, the way it hummed around and through everything, but now it was impossible not to notice, an awareness that constantly sat at the back of his neck, pressing against all of his senses. He could pluck on them like threads of possibility with his will and awareness, all of them tied together, a web of intricate cause and effect that most people couldn’t even begin to guess at. 

It was overwhelming to think about outside of meditation, so he just… didn’t bother. Not unless he was talking with Bastila, anyway, when she would pull opinions from him with the force of her will alone. 

Speaking of Bastila… 

“So how long have you been standing there anyway?” He turned around, watching her, her arms crossed over her chest.

Cass could  _ feel _ how cross she was. 

“Training isn’t a game, Cassus,” she said, answering his question. “You should know that by now.” 

“It’s not wrong to have a bit of fun,” he objected, tying his belt about his waist. “There’s nothing in the Jedi Code about being joyless, the last time I checked.” 

She frowned sharply, but reigned in whatever else it was she wanted to say. Cass didn’t know for sure, but he was pretty certain that he could guess just based on their past interactions. It wouldn’t do them any good to argue, though, especially not when the Order was pushing so hard for him to become her Padawan, should he pass his trials. 

Not that he was really looking forward to being her Padawan, mind you. As much as she was more experienced as a Jedi, as bright as her star shone, it still felt a bit like having your kid brother’s annoying younger sister placed in a position of authority over you. 

_ There is no emotion, there is peace.  _

Cass exhaled as he waited for her to respond, curbing his own thoughts by clearing his mind as he’d been taught. She was younger than him, that was true, but she really  _ did _ know what she was doing. 

“The Council wants to speak with you,” Bastila said, walking toward him, her arms crossed firmly and stubbornly over her chest. “I finished meeting with them, and I believe they think you are ready to take your Trials.” 

Cass was running his fingers through his hair as she spoke and paused, hands hovering over the crest of his head before he dropped them to his sides. “Really?” he asked, openly disbelieving. “But it’s only been a month.” 

She gave him a withering look and then motioned for him to follow, her hands falling to her sides, balled in fists. Cass didn’t say anything, deciding that he would let her initiate conversation, as he so often did. This last month, their relationship had grown from unsteady and uncertain to steady and strained, but at the very least he could always rely on her for a stream of unsolicited advice and constructive criticism. 

“If they think you’re prepared, you’re prepared,” she told him once they were out of the earshot of his other, non Force Sensitive companions. “And to be honest, even if you weren’t, I’m not certain we could spare much more time. The Sith have started to gain the upperhand again while I’ve been delayed here.” 

“They’re still recovering from Revan’s death,” Cass supposed. “Malak isn’t strong enough to reign them all in right away, and it’s been, what? Four months?” 

“That may be the case,” Bastila admitted. “Even I am willing to admit that Revan was a… compelling leader. I imagine there’s turmoil within the ranks. The Sith are rather turbulent, and I suppose some must see this as an opportunity. Still, they’ve already taken a few more worlds on the Outer Rim, and Malak doesn’t seem to be quite as invested in preserving the infrastructure as his predecessor.” 

“That’s because Malak is a fool,” he said, taking a breath at the surge of anger he felt. “Sorry. I just keep thinking about Taris. I know… I know that I shouldn’t be so angry.” 

“That you acknowledge your own weakness proves how far you’ve come,” Bastila said, giving him a significant look as she so often did, one that he couldn’t but help sense the confusion behind. “I believe the Council is right. You are ready to take the Trials. This is not premature.” 

“Good to know you have faith in me.”

She gave him a withering look, her blue eyes boring into him like twin mining lasers. 

“What? I meant it. I’m not telling a joke. I swear.” Cass held up his hands as they walked past the fountain, well on their way toward the Council Chamber. “I’m not cruel or petty, Bastila, just sarcastic.” 

She sighed again but didn’t respond, her brow furrowed deeply in concentration, the annoyance radiating off of her. Cass wasn’t really surprised when she got like this any longer, frankly. He’d been spending so much time with her the last month that he’d just accepted she was always going to see the worst in him, not matter what he did. 

In fact, that seemed to be about what he could expect from all the Jedi. 

The large doors in front of the Council Chamber creaked open, the room and its vaulted ceiling occupied by the four Jedi Masters, as it always was. They stood about talking, looking up only after the doors shut with a thud and Cass walked toward them, bowing at the waist before he straightened. Cass was still aware of Bastila at his elbow, but trained his attention on the Masters, who were looking over him with their usual brand of emotionally distant scrutiny. 

“Young Jaylen,” said Master Vandar. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. We have been reviewing your progress the past few days and have decided it is time for you to take your Trials.” 

He took a breath. “Very well, Masters.”

For a moment, they seemed to deliberate, though Cass wasn’t really certain what there was to deliberate about. “Traditionally,” Master Zhar Lestin began, “we test our initiates for their knowledge of the Three Pillars; Force, Knowledge, and Self-Discipline.” He paused, and before he even continued, Cass knew the Order was about to make an exception of him. “However, your circumstances are unusual. For this reason, a special test has been devised for you.” 

“You will go to the Sacred Grove, where you will purify the ruin,” Master Vrook said, voice was uncompromising as always. “And you will bring back a lightsaber crystal from the Kinrath caves to make your own blade. You will go without anyone to assist you.” 

For some reason, the last sentence felt like a threat, though it was probably just because Vrook had said it. Every other word felt like he was trying to incite Cass to anger. 

“We feel this will adequately demonstrate your competence,” Archivist Dorak completed with a small smile, “as well as your understanding.” 

Cass took a breath and then bowed again, knowing he wasn’t likely to get any other instruction. They probably wouldn’t even tell him where the Sacred Grove was, expecting him to just find it on his own. Unfortunately for them, Cass was a bit more resourceful than that, and had actually bothered to talk to the farmers who had settled in the area over the past month. He thought he knew what he was doing…

Maybe. 

“Yes, Masters,” he responded, not saying another word or waiting for a dismissal before he turned around -- as restful as the last month had been, he was just as eager to finally leave this planet and make a difference in the Galaxy. 

He’d had the dream at least once every week since his training started, and each time he fell, Bastila would catch him, though they never talked about it afterward. Cass didn’t think that she wanted to talk about the Force Bond, especially considering how she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking; like he was liable to turn on her at any moment. He couldn’t say he understood, but… 

Well, maybe she was just skittish.

He tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, especially because they  _ were _ bound together. 

“Cass!” 

The familiar voice of Carth prompted him to turn around, the man drawing the attention of Jedi as strict as librarians, demanding absolute serenity be maintained at all times. Even if he was going out into the wilds of Dantooine, where he was sure the wildlife would be less than happy to see him, at least he could be as loud as he wanted. 

Not that it was really a consolation, it was just… 

“Yeah?” 

“You forgot your vibrosword,” Carth said as he handed the weapon over. “I… uh…”

“If you have something to say you can walk me to the exit,” Cass said, motioning for Carth to follow. “They’re sending me out, though I wouldn’t have… uh, been able to do much good without this, so thanks for that.” 

“So they’re sending you out?” Carth asked as they walked side by side, toward the Hanger and the Enclave's exit. “You’re actually going to become a Jedi?”

“Just a Padawan,” Cass responded as they passed from the realm of the Jedi into the realm of the tradesmen who moved in and out of Dantooine’s Enclave and conducted their business with the farmers from this base of operations. 

“But  _ why _ ? I thought that you were going to travel the Galaxy with some of the others and make a profit. Instead, you’re turning even more of a new leaf than you did before you joined the military,” Carth was clearly distressed. “I know I haven’t actually known you that long, but… I… I don’t know. It just doesn’t make sense. I feel like I’m out of the loop.” 

Cass paused, placing his hand on one of the paneled walls as he stared openly at Carth, not sure how to explain, or if he even should. Something told him that the Jedi Council wouldn’t appreciate him talking about Jedi Business with Captain Onasi, but at the same time, wasn’t he already implicated? Everyone had been kept here, which Cass could only assume that they would be leaving with him when he went to do… Whatever it is he was destined to do. 

“I’ve been having visions about Darth Revan since Taris,” Cass finally admitted after a tense moment, seeing no reason not to trust Carth. “In my dreams. Bastila and I have been sharing them. The Jedi Council thinks it means I’m meant to… I don’t know.” He motioned vaguely. “Do…  _ something _ .” 

“Something? They didn’t tell you what?” Carth asked, leaning against the opposite wall and looking very tired. “No, don’t answer that. I’ve worked with Jedi before. They never tell anyone anything.” 

“I’m sorry, Carth. It’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but if I didn’t feel like they were right… If I didn’t  _ feel _ it…” If he didn’t feel the Force tugging at him… He pressed his hand to his forehead. “I just  _ know _ . I have to do this.” 

“Listen,” Carth sighed and ran his hand over his beard. “Just...Promise me you’ll try to keep us in the know. None of us have been allowed to leave, and I can only assume we’ll be asked to help you, so don’t… keep us in the dark. Even if the Jedi Council does.” 

He hesitated, and then breathed deeply, closing his eyes. “I’ll tell you want I can. Honestly? I don’t know how much they’ll tell me.” Cass opened his eyes and glanced toward Carth. “They don’t trust me. I think they’re only using me because they’ve run out of options.” 

Carth reached out and placed a hand on Cass shoulder. “I know the feeling. If it’s any consolation…” he hesitated for a moment. “I… trust you.” 

Cass’ eyes widened ever so slightly before he smiled, reaching out to return the gesture. “You’re a good guy, Carth. I’m glad to have you on my side. And… thanks.” He pulled away and turned toward the exit. “I’ve got to get going. Tell Mission that she can have my pazaak deck if I don’t come back.” 

From over his shoulder he heard Carth laugh, a satisfying conclusion to their conversation.

* * *

 

 

The wilds of Dantooine would be substantially more beautiful if it weren’t for all the kriffing kath hounds. They swarmed the moment he got beyond the boundaries of any sort of civilization, plunging into the lightly forested cliffs and hills of unsettled Dantooine. The reptomammals almost immediately set about hunting him across the rugged landscape, stalking him from the top of cliffs and hiding amongst the trees. 

“If I could just catch a ride on one of those Thrantas,” he muttered to himself from the branches of one of the trees, where he had holed up to check the map of the area he’d downloaded a few weeks ago. “What do these things even eat? Besides each other, of course.” 

As it turned out, this area wasn’t very well mapped out, not that it was much of a surprise. There was no sacred grove on the map, simply because the citizens of Dantooine didn’t consider it significant, but the cave, which he could only assume was the crystal cavern he was looking for, was marked here as a landmark to avoid. Cass could only assume it was because of the population of kinraths that called the place home. 

“So, spiders or hounds,” Cass said to himself as he perched, alight on the thin branch only because he had used the Force to make himself step more lightly. “I have no idea where the grove is, but I’d bet I could find it if I searched for the presence of the Dark Side. They talked about purifying it.” 

He also knew that, somewhere on this planet, there were the black ruins. Cass was sure those also had residual Dark Side energy, but something about the way Bastila and the Jedi had been talking about the ruins made him think they were much closer to the Enclave than the grove. This far out, he was likely to find the grove if he followed his senses. 

The caves, though… those were closer. 

And it’s not like he didn’t have pouches on the belt to carry the crystal he was going to get there. 

Cass jumped from the tree, landing quietly in the mulch of leaves and grass, his hand on the hilt of his vibroblade. For a moment, he could almost picture a lightsaber in his hand, instead, the blade a vibrant violet, but then the image was gone. Cass questioned if it was a vision, and quickly accepted that it had to be. 

He wasted no time in moving forward, not wanting to stay in one place too long and attract more attention from the kath hounds than he already had. Thankfully, the cave was less than an hour’s walk from where he had been perched, a dark, dry dirty hole in the ground that had to become more than a burrow farther down if there were crystals. 

Reaching down toward his belt, he rummaged until he found the small light he’d taken to carrying with him just in case he had to walk around the Enclave at night. The Jedi didn’t believe in putting on lights to light their paths when most of the upper Enclave didn’t have ceilings, so there was a lot of fumbling around if you weren’t prepared. Thankfully, it could double as a light to lead him down into a deep, dark cave. 

As it turned out, he was right. 

After he had fastened the light more securely to his belt and turned it on, he found the cave eventually turned from caked dirt to cold, wet stone, and that was when the kinrath started appearing. 

Kinrath were knee high arachnids that lived in dark places and bred by laying eggs in clusters underground, presumably so they were defensible, especially from the kath hounds, who probably ate kinrath eggs. They came in two varieties, creepy and creepy and venomous, the only difference being that the venomous ones were slightly smaller. 

It turned out that when their nest was invaded by Jedi, they swarmed, and within moments he was fighting off at least half a dozen of the kriffing little buggers. Cass hacked his way through the arachnid-filled caves, following the long, dark tunnel until he could see a glow at the end of the corridor, a glow that was too soft to be daylight. He forged forward, through the last of the kinrath that he could see, into a large chamber where crystals grew from the floor and ceiling, casting their gentle light on the stone. Among them were littered countless clutches of kinrath eggs, but he ignored them in favor of returning his blade to its place at his side and advancing cautiously. 

The further into the large room he moved, the more he could feel the power of the crystals, humming with the presence of the Force in a strange way. They were clearly touched by it, but it didn’t permeate them like a living thing, rather, they seemed to amplify the Force into a song.  

It was a song that filled Cass, who walked almost numbly through the large room, reaching out to brush his fingers against the cold surface of one of the crystals. Though Cass honestly couldn’t say why, the texture of the crystal beneath his hands felt almost familiar, like he’d held one before. It probably had something to do with the Force. 

Most things seemed to. 

Cass almost shouted the moment the crystal broke off in his hand, but some instinct told him it was a natural reaction. Instead, he turned the rock over in his hand, surprised to find that it still emitted a soft glow, one that illuminated his palm with a soft purple light. He could feel it hum against his palm, resonating with the vibrations of the Force. Cass decided he would contemplate the crystal later, tucking it into his side pouch and quickly making his way back to the mouth of the cave. 

It turned out the daylight was blinding after being in the dark for as long as he had been. 

Cass braced his hand against the mouth of the dirt entrance of the cave, blinking into the bright afternoon light before a low growling drew his attention to his left. He didn’t need to be able to see clearly to know that he’d been scented by a pack of kath hounds. If he reached out with his senses, he could feel them through the Force, their life pulsing even enmeshed with the fabric of the world. 

He took a breath and closed his eyes, loosing his blade from where it lay at his hip. The daylight filtered through his eyelids in an orange and pink array, and time seemed to slow as he responded instinctively to the threads pulling at his senses; the sounds of paws and claws skittering in the dirt and heavy breathing, the smell of rotting meat between sharp teeth. 

And then he was moving, doing something he had never been trained to do, precisely, but that came naturally to him anyway. Cass blocked a swipe from the first beast’s claws, pushing the beast away with the Force before he opened his eyes and leapt forward, bringing his blade down on its neck with enough force to behead it. 

Awareness tingled at the back of his neck and he spun, jumping backwards just in time to avoid the snap of a second hound’s jaw. Cass braced himself as the beast lunged at him, holding up his blade as the beast’s jaws clamped around it as it tried to shake it out of his hands. He held fast, lashing out only when it released its grip, driving forward to stab it neatly through one shoulder. 

After killing one more of the hounds and wounding another, the pack finally limped off, leaving Cass standing in the field triumphant, feeling like he was coming out of a fog. He stood in the field somewhat numbly for a moment, rubbing his forehead with one hand as he thought about the implications of surrendering so fully to the Force. Sure, he’d fought instinctively before, but nothing like this. This time, he’d let the Force itself guide his actions, flow through him, like a current of subtle power as it directed him where it wished him to go. 

Is this what the Jedi Code meant? 

This absolute surrender and the sense of peace that came with it? 

“Right, no time to contemplate the mysteries of the Force right now,” he said to himself, his vision finally clearing from his battle haze. 

Clearing his mind of its thoughts, Cass climbed a nearby tree again, scaling it with ease because of his height, perching in the branches. He took a breath, trying to feel the echoes of the Force around him, reminding himself that he wasn’t searching for the Light. He was searching for the Darkness, and the Darkness felt… It felt… 

Cold, like he remembered, and deep, like the throbbing inside of the black temple of his dreams. It slipped down the back of his neck and sat at the base of his spine, but it wasn’t unpleasant, and it didn’t hurt, it was just cold, so cold that he felt like all the warmth had been drained from his extremities. 

He jumped from the tree, reaching out with his feelings to follow the sense of cold. Inevitably, it lead him toward a grove, just as the Jedi had said. 

Not that he had expected them to lying. 

Cass entered the grove, the younger, newer trees on the outermost parts of the small wood giving way to taller, darker gnarled trees more ancient than anything sprouting on the edge of Dantooine’s farmland. The presence of the Dark Side was so obvious here that Cass didn’t even need to reach out with his senses to feel it, cold and heavy, but oddly sedate. He remembered the presence of Revan from his dream and the raw hatred he could feel pulse with the deep notes of the Force. This felt different. It felt… sorrowful.

Cass pushed forward into the darkness, finding himself in the ruins of some old building, all stone. It could have been a fortress of some sort, back in the days before space travel, when writing was still on flimsi instead of contained on datacrons. 

For his purposes, though, none of that mattered.

Cass could feel the cold move sluggishly over the surface of his skin, the Darkness pulsing from within the ruin with enough force that he was sure it was the source. 

Stepping lightly, he entered the ruin, which was nothing more than a foundation and a few support pillars with a fountain in the middle. 

_ A shrine, then _ , he thought,  _ not a fortress _ . 

Walking farther into the ruin, it didn’t take him long before he smelled the decaying body, and even less time before he saw it. It was dressed in the brown robes of a Jedi, though it was decomposed enough that he couldn’t tell the species. Breathing through his mouth, he was tempted to get closer to the body to see if there any personal effects he could take back to the Jedi Council, but the sound of a snapping branch made him spin around. 

He wasn’t alone. 

Cass spun, immediately looking up, glad he did when a shape jumped from the tops of one of the old trees and into the ruin. He could see from her robes that she had been here awhile, this Cathar woman with her long Padawan braid and her amber eyes, stalking him like a graceful predator. 

It took him less than a second to realize she was the source the Darkness, and even if he hadn’t, he certainly recognized her intent when she ignited her lightsaber, still blue in spite of her Fall. Not that Dark Jedi automatically had red lightsabers, it was just, after all his dreams about Revan and Malak… 

It felt out of place. 

“Why have you come here?” the woman purred, narrowing her eyes into dangerous slits as she stalked around him, as Cass realized talking her down was his only chance of stopping her. 

There was no way a vibrosword could stand up to a lightsaber. 

“Apparently I’m looking for you,” Cass said, very deliberately keeping his hands away from his weapon. 

“Me? So the Jedi sent you,” she took a step forward, but Cass held his ground, though he did spread his hands in surrender. “This is my land. You have no right to be here. Leave or die.” 

“The Jedi did send me,” he admitted, seeing no reason to hide it from her. “But I’m not here to fight. I… I just want to talk.” 

“You want to…. Talk?” She laughed, but her amusement stopped her from doing anything else. “I am strong with the Dark Side, and you expect me to talk?” 

“Why not? Even Sith Lords use their words. Besides, I have no desire to fight you. You pretty clearly have the advantage.” 

That seemed to take some of the fire out of her oven, so to speak as she put away the lightsaber she had ignited only moments before. She was still tense, and she was certainly still dangerous, but at least she was willing to talk. 

“You do have a point,” the woman admitted. “Very well,” she said with a wave of her hand, “speak.” 

“So this is where you live?” He asked, sitting down on a fallen pillar. “Why did you come here?” 

He didn’t ask about the body, not wanting to provoke her to anger. As it was, his question seemed to agitate her and she tugged at her padawan braid, frowning sharply as she paced from side to side like a caged nexu. 

“Did I not just say this place belonged to me?” She snapped, still tugging, though she stopped pacing after a moment to stare him in the eyes. “I thought the corpse would make it obvious.” Suddenly, she drew up to her considerable full height (though he had to admit that she was still much shorter than he was), her eyes narrowing once more. “Just who are you, anyway, intruder?” 

“Cassus Jaylen, former smuggler, technically a Jedi Initiate.” He still didn’t mention the body, leaning back and bracing himself against the pillar as he looked up into her face. “You?” 

“Juhani,” she responded. “Former Padawan. Until I killed my Master.” 

“You think you can’t go back?” Cass was genuinely curious this time, though the look she gave him in response made it even more worth it. “I guess I understand that,” he admitted. “But was it premeditated? Or did you do it in a fit of rage? And do you regret it?” 

Genuine shock passed over her feline features as she considered his words, her brow furrowing deeply over her eyes. “I… What does that matter?” 

“I don’t know if the first two matter that much, frankly, not outside of a court of law,” Cass admitted. “I’m not even sure they’d matter all that much to the Jedi. But that last one? That makes all the difference. That last one means you can change.” 

Juhani shook her head violently. “Once you fall to the Dark Side, you cannot go back. I am evil now. Even if I feel remorse, it does not matter. I am forever tainted.” 

Cass was silent for a moment, thinking about Revan and Malak, thinking about the people they had once been. He’d seen in his dreams that they had changed, if his dreams were to be trusted. If someone could fall that far, couldn’t they come back? Besides, Juhani was hardly comparable to Revan and Malak. 

She wasn’t trying to take vengeance on every single Jedi, she was moping alone in a ruin. 

“I don’t believe that. I don’t think you do, either,” Cass finally said, looking into her face. “If you can swing one way, why can’t you swing back? Maybe the Jedi don’t believe it; I mean, kriff, look how they treated Ulic Qel-Droma.” He offered her a smile, watching her face reflect even more shock back at him. “But isn’t the Force responding to our choices and the way we decide to connect with it? Can’t we change the choice to something else? Is it ever too late to be forgiven?” 

“So it does not matter to you if I killed my Master?” The woman asked, indignant. “You wish me to go back, just like that?”

“This isn’t about what I think or what I want,” Cass shrugged. “It’s about you and whether you think you can be saved. Do you want to go back? To try to make things right and atone?” He watched as her face softened, rage and disbelief replaced by deepest sorrow. “But if you want my honest opinion? You were wrong to kill your Master, but that doesn’t mean you’re beyond saving.” 

He watched her, then, a play of complex emotions moving across her face before she fell to her knees, staring at her hands in the dirt. Her clawed fingers dug into the soil between the decaying paving stones, and she stayed that way for a long time before she finally looked back into his face. “I  _ am _ sorry,” she muttered, a confession almost whispered; if the fountain hadn't dried up long ago, he wouldn't have heard her. “What can I do to atone? How can I… How can I ever make up for what I’ve done?” 

“Turn yourself in to the proper authorities,” he said, standing and walking toward her to kneel in the dirt at her side. “Thankfully, the authorities in this case are the Jedi.”

He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder and smiled gently. 

“We’re morally obligated to forgive.” 

More shock filtered over her features, and though he’d been trying to tell a joke, he almost sensed her seriously considering what he’d said. Her amber eyes lingered on the hand on her shoulder before she looked back up into his eyes, expression pained and earnest. “I do not deserve forgiveness.”

“No one deserves forgiveness. It’s a gift, freely offered,” he said seriously, responding in kind. “That’s why I always try to do the best with it that I can. I want to honor the people who forgive me. And even if I’m not forgiven, I strive to do better because I know I should.” 

There was another silence, thought this time when she looked into his eyes again, she nodded and rose to her feet. “I am afraid,” she said like a confession, “but I do not want to live in darkness any longer.” 

Without another word to him, she turned away, leaving him kneeling in the dirth, hardly believing he’d just talked down a corrupted Jedi without ever raising his blade. 

For some reason, Carth’s words about Revan’s incredible persuasiveness came to mind, but he shook them from his head. He needed to stop comparing himself to Revan, even if he was sure that was what the Jedi Masters wanted him to do every time they warned him he could easily walk down Revan’s path. 

He wasn’t Revan. 

That was what he reminded himself as he stood and began to make his way back to the Jedi Enclave. 

* * *

He arrived to find the Jedi Council waiting for him.

At first, they didn’t say anything, not until he produced the crystal from inside the bag at his hip. Vrook arched his eyebrows and opened his mouth, but was cut off by Master Lestin, who sounded relieved. 

“You’ve succeeded.” 

“Juhani has already returned, young one,” Master Vandar announced with a reassuring smile on his face. “The only step that remains is to construct your lightsaber and to choose the path of study you wish to follow. Young Bastila is a Sentinel,” he said, glancing toward the young woman, who was wringing her hands nervously, staring at her fingertips. “But I do not think you will follow your Master’s path.” 

It was strange to hear the word “Master” in the context of a woman over a decade younger than him, but he wasn’t prideful enough for it to bother him when she’d spent most of her life a Jedi, and he was only just about to become one. 

“Did he not send Juhani back by talking her down from a state of aggression?” Master Dorak volunteered. “Ultimately the decision should be his, but that is diplomacy at its most base level.”

_ Consular.  _

It wasn’t as though Master Dorak and Master Lestin hadn’t already been talking him through every piece of information he would need to know in order to be a Jedi. He’d absorbed a lot in the last month, and yet somehow he’d neglected to think about what  _ sort _ of Jedi he’d want to be, when all was said and done. 

But a Consular? A  **_diplomat_ ** ? That was the last thing he’d considered… and yet, somehow…

It felt right. 

Like slipping into a well-worn jacket, a familiar fit. 

“I agree with Master Dorak,” he said, once more before Master Vrook could say anything. “I think talking is probably my greatest asset. And I have an interest in history,” he said, the way Vrook moved, stiff and angry, catching his attention from the corner of his eye. “I’m going to go contruct my saber now. I… uh… You want to brief me on what this is all about in more detail afterwards… Masters?” 

The answer, as it turned out, was an almost resounding yes. 

Almost, because Vrook still seemed bitter that he’d actually passed his Trials, not that it was a surprising reaction. 

He entered the meditation room, where the Jedi Council had gathered and placed the other components for his saber construction, though not before Vrook reminded him that usually Padawan hopefuls had to gather all their materials themselves. Cass had ignored him, naturally, finding the room quiet as he placed the still-humming violet crystal on the ground beside the other pieces of the saber. 

Sitting, Cass crossed his legs and closed his eyes, focusing on assembling the inside of the saber within the hilt. He thought about the shape of the hilt, thought about the way the lightsaber would look when completed, nervousness chased away by a strange sense of certainty with an edge of the familiar. For a moment, he wondered if Bastila were somehow invading his feelings again, but pushed the thought away, knowing that distraction could be dangerous when working with the sensitive power cell that gave the saber its energy. 

At last, the saber was completed, and he reached out with his hand, knowing even as he grabbed the hilt that he would be rebuilding it on his own time with better materials. Still, it felt cold and solid in his hands and hummed with energy when he ignited it. He had to admit, the color of the blade was impressive, dark purple with a core of brilliant white. 

He dismissed the blade and hooked it onto his belt, standing up and staring toward the door of the meditation chamber for a moment, hesitating. The last month he’d been able to cope by telling himself that this was necessary, but some part of him still felt like he was being trapped by the Jedi Order, that his freedom of choice was being taken from him. No matter what he did, he’d always be on someone’s leash, and he wasn’t sure he liked the leash the Jedi Order had him on. 

It felt more restricting than the leash a Hutt might put on him, because at least he knew how to deal with having enough rope to hang himself. He didn’t know how to deal with not having enough rope to breathe. 

_ There is no passion, there is serenity.  _

Cass breathed in, forcing his body to relax as he walked toward the doors, which whooshed open to let him pass. The Jedi Council and Bastila Shan, officially his Jedi Master, all stared at him as he entered, bowing his head in greeting as he went through the motions. 

“Padawan Jaylen,” Master Vandar said as he straightened. “We have been spending some time analyzing the dreams of yourself and Jedi Bastila. We have ascertained that the ruins Revan and Malak sought rest to the East of the Enclave. We have already sent one Jedi to investigate, but he has not returned, and now that you have completed your training, it only seems appropriate to send you to find him.”

“We can no longer sense his presence through the Force. Unfortunately, this likely means he has passed on,” Vrook lowered his head, and for a moment Cass could almost sense his grief. “You need to go to the ruin and discover what it is Revan and Malak were searching for. But be warned -- Guard your mind against attack. This is a place strong with the Dark Side.”

Cass was tempted to tell the Jedi Council that he knew, that he’d felt it through his dreams, but he kept it to himself, nodding instead before bowing a second time and turning toward Bastila. “Ready, er… Master Shan?” 

Bastila looked back over her shoulder toward the Jedi Council, and then looked him in the eye. “Don’t call me that. Coming from you, it just seems…” She shook her head and didn’t elaborate. “I’d rather you not.” 

Cass smiled to himself, and gladly followed her from the Council Chamber. 


	11. Part Two: Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of you have said such kind and wonderful things. Please, if you have any suggestions for any other stories you'd like to see from me, please let me know.

It was just like his dream, the ruin, the walls black and glassy, made of a strange stone that didn’t seem to have originated on Dantooine or on any of the sector’s planets. He could feel the Dark Side around him, and felt Bastila tense in response as they walked down the long, narrow corridor through which the Force pounded like a heartbeat. 

In the distance, something skittered, stone against stone, and Bastila froze, her pale eyes staring into the darkness as Cass pushed onward. The sense of deja vu was overwhelming, so oppressive that he almost pictured Malak behind him instead, tall and pale in gloom, much less skittish than his current Jedi companion. 

Cass knew for certain that they were following in Revan’s steps the moment they both emerged into a large corridor with a vaulted ceiling where a voice suddenly hissed through the darkness in a strange language that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Eyes darting from side to side, they finally settled on the bulky metallic shape of a droid lumbering toward them on clawed legs, like a ambling mechanical kinrath. Bastila was a half step behind him and already tensed for combat, though Cass held out his hand, his brow furrowed deeply as his eyes swept from side to side once more looking for an escape and settled on the crumpled corpse of an old man in Jedi robes only a few meters away. 

“Can you repeat that?” Cass asked the droid, who spoke in a different language, this time a series of tonal clicks that he still didn’t understand. “Nope. I’ve got nothing.” 

The third time, as it turned out, was a charm as whooshing sound came from the droid, like someone squeezing water through a series of tubes. Cass recognized it as Selkath, though a dialect so ancient that he had to strain to understand the grammar. 

“State your purpose here,” said the droid, and Bastila must have understood it as well, because she relaxed beside him. 

“We came here to find this man,” Cass said, straining to communicate in Selkath, tilting his head toward the body. “And to get answers. Maybe you can help us.” 

“You speak one of the languages of the slave races,” the droid said, seemingly ignoring Cass in its amazement at the ability to communicate clearly. “But much like the masked man and his companion, neither of you are of the Builder’s race. You do not belong to the Infinite Empire. How curious.” 

“Infinite Empire?” Bastila asked, glancing toward Cass to see if he had an explanation, which he of course didn’t. 

“It is inconceivable that you wouldn’t know of the Builders. They rule this Galaxy, or presumably most of it, as you are not one of the slave races,” the droid droned on. “I can only presume that you are looking for the location of the Star Forge.” 

Bastila opened her mouth, but Cass beat her to the punch. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, that is exactly what we’re looking for. Do you know how to find it?” 

The droid buzzed quietly as it thought while Bastila  _ pulsed _ waves of annoyance. 

“I do not know the Star Forge’s location,” the Droid responded after a moment. “But the Builders have left maps to the center of the Empire scattered across the worlds they rule. Perhaps you could find the fragments. It is what I told the masked man and the deceased interloper, though the later failed to unearth the piece of the map that surely rests within the inner sanctum of this place. The Builders would not want to lose their own way, after all.” 

“How long have you been here?” 

Bastila spoke the words before Cass could respond, and he fought down a wave of annoyance, determined that they would communicate later. They couldn’t keep acting stupidly and on impulse in front of each other; not if they were going to actually be working together. He had to learn how to actually cooperate with her instead of just pushing her buttons all the time. 

“Pardon me?” Bastila’s voice drew him from his thoughts, making him realize he’d missed the droid’s answer. “That’s over 10,000 years.” 

Cass was a bit surprised, but he didn’t say so, glancing around the droid to try to get a good look at the rest of the chamber. There were two doors to either side of the droid, both black, both of which filled him with a strange sense of… Familiarity. Like he had been here before, in this very same corridor. 

It must have been the dream. 

“The Star Map,” he said absently, still staring at the doors. “The piece that’s here? How would we find it?”

The droid’s single searchlight eye slid toward him, claw like feet clicking against the black tile as it moved. “You must enter the rooms on either side of me and input the passcodes to unlock the inner sanctum.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Cass said. “Right, Bastila?” 

She opened and closed her mouth, and he grinned. 

It had been worth it to antagonize her just… one more time. 

Still, she agreed with him, or at least he thought she did, because she followed him when he walked past the droid to investigate the doors. They apparently still worked, because when he and Bastila approached, the doors opened without a sound, as if no time had passed at all. 

Apparently whoever the Builders were, they were good at building, as their names implied. 

Or at least their  _ slaves _ were good at building. 

“Shall we?” he asked, entering the room to find it occupied only by the rusted out chassis of several droids who look like they’d been sliced apart by lightsabers. 

He could almost smell the smouldering metal the blades would have left in their wake. 

“So what do you think?” he asked Bastila, stepping around the old machine, walking toward what he could only assume to be a computer with the way it hummed. “What is the Star Forge? It sounds like some kind of factory.” 

“I think that’s likely too simplistic,” Bastila replied. “Look at how quickly Revan built his armies and his fleet of ships; no mere factory could ever do such a thing. Whatever this Star Forge is, it is likely a weapon.” 

Cass shook his head -- That still felt  _ wrong _ , but Bastila was right about one thing for certain. 

Whatever the Star Forge was, it was a lot bigger than a mere factory. 

Approaching the computer, Cass jumped back when a single touch to the surface was enough to make the machine whir to life. Strange characters that he could almost read flashed across its screen, blue lettering juxtaposed by sharp black, a series of gurgling noises that almost seemed to form words accompanying the machine’s attempts at communication. 

“Cass?” Bastila asked from behind him, stepping close enough to him that he could feel her body heat, one of her small, calloused hands resting on his arm. 

“It’s a computer,” he said absently, running his hand over the screen, the machine whirring at him more in response. 

_ Need… Words…  _

“I know that,” Bastila said as Cass shrugged off her hold to reach into the utility pouch at his side, rummaging around for his holocommunicator. “Can you tell what it’s saying?”

“You know?” Cass said, glancing over his shoulder before he connected the device to the port at the front of the terminal. “Almost. Probably another sign that the Jedi Council is right about me and that I’m destined to do this.” 

The machine in front of him began to sputter and shake as it released his holocommunicator, the letters on the screen rearranging themselves into the aurebesh. Well, Cass supposed as he took his device from the greedy machine, running his hands back over the interface, he’d apparently guessed right. 

Bastila said nothing as Cass focused on reading the words that flashed across the screen, her silence uncomfortable somehow, though he couldn’t place the emotion that suddenly swirled inside of him. She could mask her feelings far too well, as any Jedi short of the miraculous one month Padawan should be able to do.  It actually bothered him that she could do that… If only because it felt like it left their relationship on unequal footing. 

Either she’d have to stop doing that (unlikely), or she would have to teach him to mask his emotions better, which now that he thought about… As his Master, it was technically her job to do that if he asked, wasn’t it? 

“It’s asking me which worlds are barren and unable to easily sustain life,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Bastila, who was already staring back at him with her uncanny blue eyes. “Obviously not oceanic and arboreal. Desert?” He scrolled through the choices. “Desert is probably an answer, right?” Had the Builders ever been to a desert before? They were full of all manner of creatures, especially the kind that could kill you, probably even more than jungle worlds, if he was being completely honest. “Considering that the other option that’s obviously a life-sustaining world is  _ plains _ ...”

Bastila nervously glanced over her shoulder, wringing her hands together as the droid in the main antechamber moved about in accordance to whatever ancient programming it possessed. Cass, for his part, quickly finished inputting the answers, and the computer whirred in approval as the sound of a pressurized lock releasing hissed in the distance. “It sounds like your guesses were successful,” she said, walking quickly toward the exit of the long chamber. “Now please, let’s hurry and finish our task. This place unsettles me.” 

He wondered if it should disturb him that he wasn’t bothered. In fact, doing what he was doing here felt natural, but Cass could just as easily attribute that to the fact that being adaptable was just a part of his nature. He’d always been able to think on his feet for as long as he could remember. Actually, that was part of what had drawn him to being a smuggler,  and even before that he’d been able to talk his way out of almost any situation. 

Maybe the rest of it was that he hadn’t been raised to be a Jedi. 

Unlike Bastila, he didn’t fear corruption as an absolute evil. Might be something about understanding that good and bad people were everywhere, and that most people were actually both, warts and all. 

The Galaxy was a very un-Jedi place. 

It didn’t take long before they unsealed the second lock and made their way to the inner sanctum. The riddles were almost pathetically easy, and Cass couldn’t help but imagine something else had done their elderly Jedi Scout in; all the droids here were disabled, and posed no threat. 

All except one. 

Maybe the machine was more dangerous than it looked. 

They met no resistance, however, walking through a dark corridor even longer than the entrance hallway, bright lights illuminating their path as they progressed. They cast an eerie blue-white glow over the cobblestones, the air growing oddly more cold even as it grew more oppressive, thick with the presence of the Dark Side. 

For a moment, Revan flickered into the forefront of Cass’ mind, a long black shadow that almost bled into a brown cloak and that damn mask. He felt like he was wearing Revan as a skin as he walked forward, his steps echoing the same when he stepped into the inner sanctum, lights flickering on to reveal a black holoterminal, shimmering almost blue in the dim lighting. 

He reached out a hand, and for a terrifying moment it wasn’t his own hand outstretched in front of him, it was Revan’s, clad in dark brown leather. Cass felt The Force  _ move _ through him, some secret knowledge hidden in the back of his mind activating as he reached out toward the terminal with his feelings, watching it spring to life, an entire Galaxy spinning into existence with him standing at its core. 

“This map is archaic.”

Bastila’s voice snapped him out of his trance, and he was Cass again, his hand rubbing at his temples in an attempt to fight off the headache building between his eyes. 

“If this is Dantooine, I can only assume that the other worlds highlighted are…” she paused and seemed to think, pointing her delicate but calloused fingers toward each world as she spoke, her hand navigating a sea of stars. “Tatooine, Kashyyyk, Manaan, and…” She hesitated for a moment. “Korriban.” 

“Korriban was once part of the Infinite Empire?” Cass asked, reaching out to brush his fingers absently through the little red hologram. “I’m sure that went over well with the natives.” 

Bastila snorted. “Doubtlessly,” she muttered, taking a deep breath before she turned around. “You can see map expanding to unknown territories here,” she pointed toward the pull of gravity at the very edge of the map. “Finding the other pieces on these four worlds will mean finding a way to track down this Star Forge.” 

She turned away, looking back toward the exit. “We should take the recording with us. It doesn’t look like the pedestal contains the recording itself, but something within. A holocron or datacron, perhaps?” 

Cass kneeled, still looking up at the sea of stars around them, somewhat disoriented. It made him feel small to look up at those stars, and somehow sad, so he wasn’t sad when he snatched the holocron (for it was indeed a holocron, after a fashion) from its pedestal and the stars vanished. It was beautiful, but the feelings it elicited in him - the visions of Revan - were not things he held any fondness for. 

“We should report on this to the Jedi Council,” he said, pushing himself back to his feet, holocron still in hand. “They need to know about the Infinite Engine and the possible implications of its existence.” 

He honestly couldn’t leave soon enough. 

The Dark Side may not bother him as much as it should, but Revan’s shadow was haunting him, and he suspected only the daylight of Dantooine would scare the spectre away. 

Bastila stared after him for a moment as he walked toward the exit, her eyes boring into his back. For once, though, there was a sense of solidarity between them, their emotions perfectly aligned in the desire to leave this place behind them. He was glad that they could agree about something after all.

The hollow sounds of his footsteps as they echoed through the chamber made Cass feel like he was fleeing Revan’s lingering memories, swirling about in his mind like the stars of the Star Map, just as intangible. 

* * *

Master Vrook Lamar, though bitter, was usually unsettlingly calm.

Cass hadn’t known him very long, but that was a universal constant. He never stopped being calm, even if he always felt like he was one sparse second away from snapping angrily at the person closest to him. A lot of the older Jedi seemed to be that way, likely the result of the war with Kun and his followers, constantly on guard from the return of the Sith.

Now that the Sith had returned, it was small wonder most of them jumped at shadows. 

Cass, if he were being honest with himself, was little better in that department… He just tended to have a different temperament. 

For example, he was far less angry than the man who was pacing in front of them now, his hands fastened behind his back, thick brow furrowed into a single line. It was making Bastila nervous enough that she was fidgeting beside him, the very empathy that allowed her to influence the minds of thousands of soldiers inflicting her with the feedback of Vrook’s emotions. 

Funnily enough, Cass suspected that if he were to know how agitated she were, he would blame her “lack of control” instead of his own emotional bleed over. 

“Star Forge?” he asked. “And you’re certain it’s what allowed Revan to build his ships?” 

“I checked the archives,” Master Dorak said in an attempt to calm his peer. “There is some evidence of an ancient species that once ruled most of the Galaxy, though many have considered it to be mere supposition until recent years. Whatever specific information existed on this Infinite Empire was lost in the Sith War, along with many other artifacts.” 

“Which I suppose you say explains why no one thought to explore the giant black ruin only half an hour’s walk from your Enclave?” Cass crossed his arms over his chest and frowned sharply at the delegation of Jedi Masters. “This place is strong with the Force. If we can detect it, past advanced civilizations had to have been able to detect it as well. In fact, it looks like they knew things we don’t.” 

Some sort of space station capable of generating entire fleets of ships and legions of droids? 

He was willing to bet it was powered with the Force. 

If it  _ seemed _ impossible, there was surely no other explanation. 

“And I suppose you’re an expert on this civilization after exploring one ruin?” Vrook asked, snapping out of his anxious trance long enough to glare at Cass with a look that would no doubt kill lesser men. 

“ _ I’m _ not claiming to be an expert… But Revan was, and for whatever reason, Bastila and I are connected to him,” Cass replied calmly, doing it more because he didn’t want to give Vrook ammunition to use against him than for any other reason. “The question now is what you’re going to have us do about it, since we clearly have to be part of the solution.” 

This quieted Vrook, who looked toward Vander. The diminutive Master had said nothing up until this point, but the moment his peer’s eyes fell upon him, his wide, yellow eyes opened and he looked upon Bastila and Cassus with a weary expression. “You must travel to these other worlds, the two of you alone. At this point in time, a large delegation of Jedi and a public mission would attract the attention of the Sith.” He sighed and straightened his back running his clawed fingers over his face, the first sign Cass had ever seen that there was a person behind his serene facade. “Your companions who came with you to this world may assist you, but you must go quietly, and you must go soon.” 

“You’re placing the fate of the entire Galaxy on their shoulders?” Master Lestin’s voice was pleading. “Isn’t there anything we can do? Any other way we can assist them?” 

“You mean you didn’t already decide what would happen?” Cass asked. “I’d been under the impression that you’ve known what you’d decide from the beginning.” 

It was a joke, but it earned him a sharp look from at least two members of the Council. 

“Unfortunately, I agree with Master Vandar,” said Vrook in a voice that suggested his displeasure could not possibly be more complete if he were actively trying to be angry. “We cannot send a Master. You will have to be enough, Bastila, you and your padawan.”

Bastila nodded solemnly. “Of course, Masters.” 

Her voice was unnervingly calm, but he could sense her uneasiness.

Odd, because she’d been the one to destroy Revan and had lead the attack on the Sith countless times. Besides for the fact that this was a quiet, secret mission to destroy the Sith and their secret weapon, it didn’t seem that different. The stakes were just as high, the only difference was that they would be going alone and in secret. 

“And you, young Cassus Jaylen?” Cass was driven from his mind once more by the voice of another person; normally he wasn’t so distracted, so he wondered why it was his mind had been so distant recently. 

“I don’t seem to have much of a choice,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But even if I did…” He leveled his eyes specifically at Vrook, daring the Jedi Master to defy him. “I can’t abandon a Galaxy in need. I told you, I’m in this for the long haul. If you need me to trek across the Galaxy to find the pieces of the Star Map, that’s what I’ll do.” 

“There is always a choice,” Vrook said in response. “Remember that, or you’ll fall, just like Revan did. This mission is too important. We cannot afford for history to repeat itself.” 

Cass bit his tongue, knowing that arguing about how much he was or wasn’t like Revan wouldn’t do him any good. Even if Vrook was right, and he was destined to follow Revan’s footsteps, it didn’t mean he had to choose the same things Revan did. He was a different person, and walking someone’s path, even having their image burned into your mind, didn’t mean that you were them. 

“About that much, we do agree, Master,” Cass said. “We can’t afford to fail.” 

“Then it is decided,” Mater Vandar announced. “Padawan, we’d like to speak to you in private, but you will leave tomorrow morning. Bastila, if you would please inform your companions you will be leaving? I sense their help will be most instrumental in your success.” 

Bastila looked hesitant, perhaps becuase she was worried they wouldn’t listen to her as well as they would listen to him , but she bowed deeply and left, though not before placing a hand on his arm. For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes before she nodded and offered a thin smile, though it was oddly reassuring coming from her. 

“We can talk more later, Cassus. I’d… like to.” 

And with that, she was gone, leaving him standing alone with an elite club of old men who preferred to believe that not having emotions made them closer to the Force. 

Perhaps it did. 

Cass realized he didn’t have the experience to be able to criticize their approach, and the Sith were hardly better. 

“How much do you know about Revan, young one?” It was Master Lestin who spoke first, stepping forward, his expression strangely gentle and almost apologetic. “We have been discussing the connection you share with him, and even if it is only through Bastila’s own connection and your empathetic bond to her, you should be educated about him.” 

“I know what everyone knows,” Cass replied, not really wanting to have to put up with a lecture about the former Dark Lord of the Sith; he’d much rather be with Bastila, as strange as that seemed to say. “I know that he defied the Jedi Council for the good of the Galaxy and that everyone thought he’d died a hero at Malachor until he came back a year later on the warpath to conquer the Galaxy.” 

“You’ve been influenced by the Republic’s rhetoric,” Vrook said, sitting down on the steps of the dais. “They treat Revan as a hero, but he was always too rebellious, to proud. He refused to listen to the wisdom of his betters, and you would do well not to follow in his footsteps.” 

“That’s hardly completely fair,” Master Dorak said in a shocking show of defense that Cass had hardly expected in the slightest. “Many young Jedi act as Revan acted.”

“He had exceptional skills and a responsibility to use those skills for the benefit of others. He failed.” 

Vrook’s tone left little room for negotiation. 

“With all due respect, Masters,” Cass said, compelled to defend Revan’s decisions, even if he held no love for the man who haunted his nightmares, “the point of view of the Republic may be different from your own, but it is no less important. There’s a reason that the citizens of the Republic see Revan as a hero, and that’s because he  _ was _ . Without Revan and Malak, we might all be speaking Mando’a right now.”

“We called for patience,” Vrook said, voice rough with suppressed emotion. “And because he did not heed us, the Galaxy is under threat from Malak and the Sith now. Do you honestly think that a Mandalorian lead government that could easily have been overthrown from within is the worse evil?”

“Do you honestly think that it’s morally acceptable to allow one evil to take root just to prevent another?” His brow furrowed deeply and he took a step forward. “Revan wasn’t a good Jedi, and he didn’t die a good man, but I don’t think you can say he was evil. Not when he went to war.” 

Not with everything he’d heard, Cass thought, even as the Jedi exchanged worried glances that were the self-righteous equivalent of  looks of damnation. 

Pity, in his opinion, was worse than scorn. 

“If you think that, then you’re already doomed to Fall. We all knew Revan as a child, before he was Revan. We knew him better than anyone else,” Vrook said, still sitting on the steps, staring down at his hands, not moving even when Vandar placed a reassuring hand onto his shoulder. “It was our duty to guide him, and we failed.” 

Cass bristled at those words, but took a deep breath through his mouth and forced himself to calm down, reminding himself of the Jedi Code. This might be a part of his test, he thought absently, though they’d already declared him a Padawan. 

He probably wouldn’t be if the situation wasn’t so dire. 

“Revan made his own choices, and so will I,” Cass said after a few long, deep breaths. “I understand your concern, Masters. I’m just some civilian turned Jedi, and I’m sure I barely have the skills needed to make it through this mess. I’d be a bit concerned, myself.” .

“Rely on Bastila, young one,” Vandar said, looking up from where he still hunched over Vrook, small hand on the Master’s shoulder. “Trust in the Force, and you will not fail. It will not lead you astray.” 

Was it really that simple?

Cass wondered what they would say if the Force lead them in a direction other than the one they personally had decided was best. 

“Of course, Masters,” he said in a soft voice, bowing, deciding not to bring up his thoughts. “I should go to Bastila. She might need my help preparing for tomorrow.” 

He didn’t wait for them to dismiss him, turning around and leaving the room. He didn’t want to waste any more time arguing about Revan. Cass would rather move forward than look backward, though looking forward, he was certain he’d leave the Order after all was said and done. 

He couldn’t afford to waste the rest of his life chasing the phantom approval of old men so out of touch with the Galaxy that they honestly believed they had served it by doing nothing.

* * *

 

Bastila caught him that night before he was going to head back to his quarters.

He’d lost all desire to talk to her after spending the rest of the evening having to organize their departure while descalating the situation that Bastila had started with Canderous over the whole thing. He was so tired that all he wanted to do is drop into his mattress and sleep his last night in a decent bed away. After all, the Hawk would be his home for the next who really knew how long -- It’s not like the Jedi Order was giving them spending money, so it was sleep in the Hawk or bust.

Still, he wasn’t rude, and even if he was a bit annoyed with her for how graceless he has been, Cass was beginning to realize it was because she was sheltered, not because she was malicious. He rubbed the back of his head and sighed, offering her a watery, tired smile as he turned to her, knowing she could sense his exhaustion but guarding his wariness from her. Cass didn’t need Bastila to think that he hated her when that was the farthest thing from the truth. She just… Got to him. 

For a lot of reasons. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I wanted to talk to you,” Bastila said, motioning for him to follow her. “Please. It’s… important.” 

Cass followed her, missing the pockets that he used to jam his hands into, forced to cross his arms over his chest instead. It occurred to him that maybe they should find civilian clothes on Tatooine, which they had all universally agreed was the best place to start, even after Bastila had dumped Juhani on them like she was a thermal detonator. Cass had argued that two Jedi were already enough, that they didn’t need another Padawan, and Bastila had argued that the Council was assigning her to the mission in hopes that the experience would be a positive influence on her. 

He’d wanted to argue that it was stupid sending someone in such a sensitive state of mind out on a mission, even after Bastila had explained that her Master hadn’t really died and it had all been a test. There was nothing he could do if the Masters had ordered it, after all, even if their method of testing Juhani had been cruel and unnecessary, even if they shouldn’t be sending an emotionally unstable young woman on a mission to literally save the Galaxy. The only reason he found Mission’s presence even remotely acceptable was because he knew her, and he knew she could take care of herself, but Juhani…

She seemed so  _ dependant _ on the Jedi. 

“So,” Cass said as they walked toward the garden, leaning against one of the statues and looking up into the night sky, watching the stars glitter in familiar patterns, “what’s this all about, Bastila?” 

“I have some questions for you,” she said, her stare so intense that he could feel it, even if he wasn’t looking at her face. “If we’re going to be working together, I feel it’s pertinent for me to have a better understanding of who you are.” 

Cass glanced at her, and then sat down on the lip of the fountain. “Okay.” 

He couldn’t really see a problem with it, though something made him wary. Cass wasn’t sure what it was, so he dismissed it offhand as being paranoia and focused instead on just having the damn conversation with her like they were normal people, though something told him it was probably impossible to have a normal conversation with Bastila. 

Even in the month he had known her, nothing between them had really changed outside of the fact that she was outwardly less hostile and more willing to defend his decisions… If only because she understood his reasoning better now that their Force Bond had been acknowledged. 

“What’s your full name?” She asked, standing directly in front of him, not much taller than him even when he was sitting down. 

“Cassus Jaylen. This isn’t a job interview, Bastila.” 

Bastila frowned sharply at him, her blue eyes flashing in annoyance. “And where were you born?”

Cass sighed heavily. “Deralia,” he said, and then cut her off before she could speak again. “Bastila, seriously. You know all of this. You were the commanding officer on the Endar Spire. Are you honestly trying to tell me you haven’t read my dossier?” 

She didn’t respond immediately, and before she even spoke, Cass knew exactly what she would ask. “And is it true you worked as the captain of a freighter before enlisting with the Republic Military?” 

“Bastila!” Cass threw up his hands. “This… This isn’t…” He gulped in a few quick breaths when he saw her eyes widen and felt the pulse of fear shiver through the air between them, trying to calm himself down. “Stop playing games with me, Bastila.” 

Fear was immediately replaced by hot, sharp anger, her lips pressing into a thin, tight line to match the way her eyes narrowed, pale slits that almost glowed in the moonlight. “This  _ isn’t _ a game. I already told you what this is about.” She held her head high, haughty, something she had probably learned from watching Vrook. “You’re the one refusing to take this seriously.” 

“You don’t get to know someone by asking them about a series of facts!” He snapped back against his better judgement. “Kriffing hell, Bastila, what do you think I am? An idiot? Is this some kind of test?”

She looked so stricken that he suddenly burst out laughing.

“That’s it, isn’t it? It’s a test. You’re testing me.” He took more calming breaths, gulping down the cool night air. “Fine. Okay. What are you testing?” 

“I wanted to see how seriously you were taking this mission,” she said, as if she were justified, as if she had any  _ right _ to--

It hurt.

He was  _ hurt _ by what she was doing, by what the Jedi were doing to him. He’d spent forever acting like this wasn’t having a toll on him, but it clearly was. He was an adult man who had made the choice to do this of his own volition and here they were treating him like a child, like an untrustworthy monster, constantly comparing him to Revan and treating him like he had ulterior motive. 

Cass looked into Bastila’s face to find a look of shock tinged with shame on her face and found himself feeling oddly vindicated. 

Good. 

She  _ should _ know. 

“Why wouldn’t you trust me?”He asked her, standing up, staring down into her still stricken face. “I’m here because I want to be. I  _ chose _ to do this, to give up my life and my dreams for the sake of the Galaxy. You can sense my emotions, so you have to know that I’m sincere.” 

“You’re just… You’re always so flippant…” her voice was breathless as she struggled for the words. “You never take anything seriously. Just yesterday morning you were using your abilities irresponsibly to play pranks on Canderous.” 

“Not everyone can be all business all the time, Bastila,” Cass said, using his willpower to avoid snapping at her again, though his voice was still strained. “Aren’t Jedi allowed to have fun? Just because I’m trying to alleviate the burden of countless lives on my shoulders doesn’t mean I’m not taking it seriously.” 

She didn’t look convinced. “A Jedi’s duty is a solemn one --”

“I have a sense of humor, Bastila,” he said, voice growing cold. “Deal with it.” 

She was stunned into silence, and even if she hadn’t been, he wouldn't have given her the chance to. Maybe later, he could talk to her. There was a part of Cass that knew she didn’t mean poorly but it, but right now he was just too tired -- and too  _ upset  _ \-- to worry about coddling her feelings just because she was young and sheltered. 

She’d get over it or she wouldn’t. 

That was really all there was to it. 

For now, he just wanted to sleep and hope that he didn’t dream about Revan. 

After the day he’d had, that was the last thing he needed. 


	12. Part Two: Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally intended for this chapter to be longer, but it already got away from me in length, so I had to split my original outline into two.

The bright light of Tatooine’s twin suns blinded him, the star staring down at him like a pair of Jaig Eyes on the front of a Mandalorian’s helmet. Sand whipped around his ankles, the glare so intense that even the shade his hood provided did little to prevent him from having to squint into the distance.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Came the now sickeningly familiar voice of the former Dark Lord of the Sith, seeming to materialize from the sand beside him. “A true vacation. I’m glad that no one touched this ball of Hutt dust during the war.” 

“You hate it that much?” Cass asked, making a face as a herd of Bantha passed, their smell reminding him a bit too much of Coruscant’s sewage system for comfort. “I can’t imagine why.” 

To his great surprise, the Dark Lord laughed, and then motioned for him to follow. “Thankfully, this is just a dream. I don’t really envy you, having to spend weeks here with Shan nipping at your heels. The Jedi really did choose the perfect watch dog…” The Dark Lord trailed off, oddly conversational as he began to trudge up the crest of a large dune. 

Cass, not really sure what else to do, followed him. 

It was a struggle to make it up the dune, and Cass admitted that he had no idea how Revan did it so effortlessly. At least, until he remembered Revan was a figment of his imagination. Of course he’d be able to climb a dream hill on a desert planet without breaking a sweat while wearing all black from head to toe. 

When Cass reached the top of the hill, sweat was spilling down the back of his neck and he carded his fingers through his hair to sweep it out of his eyes, looking out over the horizon. It was blue and bleached golden-white for as far as the eye could see, except for a hole in the earth and the sheltered patch of grazing nearby. 

“Fortunately for you, I know exactly where you have to go,” Revan said as Cass came to rest beside him, pointing out toward the cave. “You’ll have to find a way across the Dune Sea, but what you’re searching for is there, inside that cave.”

Cass glanced toward Revan, who was staring unflinchingly into the distance, his expression as unreadable as it always was behind that mask. For a moment, he felt the urge to rip it from the man’s face, but it was quickly followed by an inexplicable fear that prompted Cass to look away, his hands balled into fists at his side. 

“Why are you helping me?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Jaybird?” Revan laughed, and the sound was oddly chilling, sending shivers down Cass’ spine even in the blazing heat of Tatooine’s suns. “By helping you, I help myself.” 

Cass stared blankly at the Dark Lord, who stared back at him from behind the mask, feeling strangely numb to the words. “What does that even mean?” he asked indignantly. 

Revan laughed again and reached out to place a hand on Cass’ shoulder, his demeanour a bit different from the man on the ship, but still darker than the man in the ruins. It was only then that Cass noticed that Revan, though dressed in black, was not wearing the robes he’d been wearing on the bridge of the Behemoth but a different set of black robes, less elegant and more utilitarian. 

The mask was the only thing that remained the same. 

“You’re not a stupid man, Cass. You’ll figure it out,” Revan said as he set out down the dune, Cass sliding down the slope after him; it was far easier to go down than it had been to go up. “I’m going to continue to advise you to beware of Shan. She has the potential to pull you away from your goals. Of course, you could always turn the Force Bond against her and bring her to her knees…” Revan snorted. “But whether or not you think that’s worth it is up to you. She might be more trouble than she’s worth.” 

“You keep talking about our goals like they’re the same thing.” Cass said, staring at Revan, who looked back at him this time, his stare unnerving from behind the mask. 

“They are,” Revan said evenly. “You want Malak gone… And so do I. We’re of one mind, Jaybird. If I didn’t help you, it would be the same as refusing to help myself, and a Sith _ always _ helps himself.”

Cass shivered at the words as they slid down his spine, but took a breath and decided to try to force himself awake. Revan, beside him, started to laugh maniacally, the sound echoing throughout the desert, though there were no walls or ceilings. 

“That’s right. You’re a Jedi now,” the Dark Lord muttered, the heat on the back of Cass’ neck beginning to vanish, the world around him flickering out of existence and growing dark. “We both know you’ll never really be a Jedi, Cass. I think you know in the core of your soul exactly what you are. You could never  _ really _ forget.” 

Cass did his best to block out the words, forcing himself to wake, shooting up from bed, his hand pressed to his chest, panting heavily. He could feel the sweat beading on his brow and groaned heavily, running his fingers through his hair before he threw his legs over the side of the bunk, not really surprised to see that Carth and Canderous were already gone. 

It was hard to sleep cramped up in the tiny bunks on the Ebon Hawk, especially when he was sharing the room with two other people. He was almost tempted to mention how lucky Zalbaar was, sleeping in the ship's Comm Room, but everywhere was cramped for a Wookie.

“Kriffing hell,” Cass muttered, pushing himself to his feet, careful not to hit his head on the edge of the bunk above him. “If this is going to happen every time we go to a new world, I might start making sure Bastila and I don’t sleep at the same times.” 

It felt so personal, he thought, so  _ invasive _ . 

She could tell him until she was blue in the face that  _ she _ was the one who was connected to Revan, but his instincts told him otherwise. If his training had taught him anything at all, it was that he had always been right to trust those instincts, and that no number of protestations from his would-be Jedi Master could convince him of anything else. 

Revan was in  _ his _ mind, and he didn’t want Bastila snooping on the interactions. 

Not with the deceased Dark Lord’s strange interest in him that spanned the expanse of the living Force and mortality itself. 

His hopes that she hadn’t noticed were shattered the moment he finished rummaging through the trunk he’d pushed against one wall to store his few possessions -- including his civilian clothes, which he sloppily threw on. Bastila was already standing outside of the door, rapping on it intently, and he could tell it was her because she was already shouting for him to come out of the room, though he didn’t know if she would define it that way. 

“Just a minute,” he called to her. “Unless you want to see me without a shirt, have some patience.” 

The frantic rapping stopped. 

Cass quickly shoved his arms through the sleeves of his red jacket and unlocked the door, looking down at Bastila, who was looking back up at him with a grim expression on her face. He probably looked haggard and tired, his hair a complete mess, stubble casting a perpetual shadow on his chin, his expression disgruntled at the very  _ least _ . 

“What is it?” He drawled, leaning against the door frame and staring down at her with hooded eyes. 

“The dream,” she said as descriptively as he was sure she could possibly manage. 

“What about it?” Cass asked as he shrugged past her, refusing to let her stop him from getting to the cockpit.

“Are they all like that?” 

Cass looked at her over his shoulder, pausing at one of the portholes, streaming light into the interior of the ship that had been his home for the last several days. They’d apparently landed on Tatooine in the night, which… He supposed he had known they would. Hadn’t Carth said something about that last night? 

“Is every single one of my dreams like that?” He asked, and she nodded, to which he sighed and shook his head. “If they were, you’d be in my head a lot more, Bastila. Only the special ones are like that. And look at it this way--” 

He turned around to face her fully, shrugging and grinning. “We know the Star Map is in a cave.”

She looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t let her.

Instead, he turned his attention back toward reaching the Comm Room, where he sent a message over the speakers. “Will the crew of the Ebon Hawk please meet me by the Pazaak table? We appear to have landed, which means that someone is going to have to help me look for ancient alien artifacts, and some of you are going to have to make sure no one on this ball of dust jacks the freighter.” 

Within a few moments, everyone who wasn’t already in the Comm room arrived at various speeds. It didn’t take Juhani or Zaalbar long to arrive at all, as they were both already standing at the edges of the room doing whatever they wanted, while Canderous took his sweet time walking from the garage. T3 wheeled in, beeping curiously before settling in beside Cass, who placed a fond hand on his head before leaning his weight on the Pazaak table. 

“Who here has experience with Tatooine?” 

Canderous was the only one who raised his hand and nodded. “Okay, then you’re with me. Bastila, too. I doubt you’ll stay behind,” he said as he turned his head to look at her, finding her standing grim faced with her arms crossed over her chest in the far corner of the room. “We don’t really know the situation in Anchorhead, so I think it’s best to have as few people as possible foray out in the wild world until we have a better grasp of the situation. Anyone have any other ideas?” 

No one said anything, not even Bastila, who had still not moved or changed expression. 

He sighed. 

“I guess that’s it, then.” He ran a hand tiredly over his stubbled chin and then cracked his neck. “Carth, can you man the comm? Just in case. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I was planning on it,” Carth said. “Though if you don’t mind, I’d like to hand the comm over to Juhani for a while to catch a nap. It took all night to bring this ship in. I’m not used to freighters.” 

Cass glanced to Juhani, who was fidgeting uncertainly with the edge of her robe, catching his eyes and holding them for an entire breath before she glanced away. She looked nervous… Though considering where she had come from, he didn’t blame her. 

“It’s your call,” he replied, looking back toward Carth, finding himself wondering why he was the one giving the marching orders here. “If you think that’s best, we’ll do it your way.” 

Wasn’t Bastila the oldest Jedi on this mission? Shouldn’t she be the one giving orders? It was her the Sith had bombed an entire planet to stop. He was just some smuggler from Deralia turned reluctant Jedi padawan learner.

Still… 

“Then I’m going to take a nice, long nap,” Carth said, rolling his shoulders as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Comm us if you find anything, though I doubt that will be soon. Something tells me we’re going to be stuck here awhile.”

“I bet finding my brother will be easier than finding the Maps,” Mission declared from somewhere next to him, reaching out to press a hand to T3’s head. “I’ve got this little guy. Which reminds me… Why can’t you just use the sensors to find the Map?” 

The more he thought about exactly what they were doing, gathering through a desert searching for a cave they could spelunk in to find a fragment of ancient alien technology, the more he thought maybe Bastila didn’t have all the necessary skills to excel at this job alone. 

“They don’t show up on the scanners,” Cass said to Mission, shrugging. “These Builders were pretty damn impressive when it came to cloaking. Either that, or whatever frequency they used to emit signals can’t be picked up by our tech.” 

“Right,” Mission said, nodding. “So then how are you going to find it?”

Cass flashed a grin at her, all teeth, before replying. “I’m not just trying to find long lost alien tech, Mission, I’m trying to trace the steps of a dead Sith Lord. On a planet like this, he’s going to be a lot easier to track than anything else.”In reality, he was having the dreams, but most of the crew didn’t actually know about those, and he didn’t want to alarm them. He planned on telling him just… maybe not yet. “Besides, I have a bit of a lead already.” 

Bastila snorted. 

No, she wasn’t nearly tactful at the sorts of things that needed to be done in order to find the Star Map. Bastila was a competent, powerful woman with a developed sense of justice, a good heart, and a sharp mind… But she was also hopelessly tactless and rough around the edges. If they had to rely on her to talk to everyone, he had no doubt they’d be stuck here even longer than they might be otherwise… If only because she’d alienate half of Anchorhead and enrage the other. 

Thankfully, Cass had more experience with this kind of thing. 

“Yeah, Flyboy? Well good luck with that. I’d offer to bet you over who’s going to find their mark first, but Griff can be scanned for, and I actually kind of agree with the Captain,” she frowned distastefully, nose wrinkled up. “We’re going to be here for awhile.” 

Zaalbar growled in quiet, resigned agreement. 

“I will man the holocomm,” Juhani said, interrupting the conversation to sit down in the seat across from the terminal. “I will call you if there is a change in the situation here, Cassus.” 

“Thanks,” Cass replied, looking back toward Bastila before glancing toward Canderous. “Okay. If you’re ready, I’m ready. Let’s get out of here. We have a Galaxy to save.” 

It was meant to be a joke, but it was so true that no one laughed.

* * *

 

“So, where did you learn to talk like that?” Canderous asked as they left the office of the port authority, their purse a bit lighter… but not as light as it could have been. “You just talked a one hundred credit docking fee to a fifty credit docking fee and didn’t even threaten to shoot him in the face.”

“You have to use the right bait to get the bantha to come to you, Canderous,” Cass said, regretting that the clothes he’d worn didn’t have a hood on them; the glare of the sun off the bleached white sand made his eyes water. “Punching a clerical worker in the face isn’t going to win you any favors in the future. Better to convince him that you need the lower price but you’ll deliver a message to the Czerka Office as a favor to him in return. Then he’ll remember you as a nice guy and be more likely to ignore the suspicious things you do later.” 

“Do you use the Force to influence people?” Bastila, who had been quiet up until this point, asked with unusual brightness and curiosity. “Your presence is incredible. There are few who can bend people to their will in such a way.”

“I’m not bending them,” Cass said, his own voice sharper than he wanted it to be as they passed through the shadows of the buildings, never so grateful for huts made out of mud in his entire life as he was in that moment. “It’s called persuasion. I’m convincing them that changing their mind would be beneficial.” 

“But isn’t that manipulative? Shouldn’t you be honest with them about your intentions?” 

Around them, Anchorhead swelled, and Cass pretend to lose her response in the noise for just a moment. It was easy to, especially when they reached the main concourse, where the Czerka Corporation had set up their offices, their puce uniforms sticking out amongst the brown and tan tunics of the natives and the vibrant colors worn by the myriad of smugglers drifting in and out of Anchorhead’s Cantinas. 

“No,” he said after a moment. “Is it manipulative to try to outwit someone in a debate? To try to convince them that they’re wrong? It’s the same thing. It’s not like I’m breaking their minds and destroying their will to resist. I’m just… Talking to them.” 

His eyes scanned the crowd, and then glanced up toward the neon signs attached to the sides and fronts of all the shops. He could see where the Czerka building was from here, all the way across the concourse, standing over the bleached city like a monolith. For a moment, a scene of a jungle with a massive black structure towering over the trees flashed before his eyes, but the details escaped his grasp the moment after, and he was left ignoring the sensation that he’d forgotten something important. 

“No, I suppose not,” Bastila admitted. “You just do it with such ease that it seems almost impossible that you aren’t influencing their minds somehow.” 

“Not everything has to do with the Force,” he said. “At least not in terms of the personal abilities of people in the wider Galaxy. Do Jedi really think that no one who isn’t like us can’t do amazing things?” 

“Yes,” Canderous answered with a snort. “Revan didn’t, but he was an exception. He recognized the value of those of us without the Force and knew how to use most of the rest of the Galaxy to his advantage.” 

“That’s morally wrong,” Bastila told Canderous in a voice that left no room for argument, and Cass sighed, trying to tune them out as he pushed his way across the concourse toward Czerka’s building. “The Jedi do not use the people of the Galaxy. We recognize they have value, even if they haven’t been chosen of the Force. Our power is responsibility, not superiority.”

“You treat us like we don’t exist, or worse, like we need you to protect us. There’s no way in hell that’s better than actually acknowledging that we’re the ones who grease the wheels and make sure your precious society keeps functioning,” Canderous snorted. “I’d rather be an active participant under Revan than a footnote in your “great destiny’.” 

“If you like Revan so much,” Bastila hissed, “why aren’t you with the Sith?”

“That’s easy,” Canderous said with a grin that Cass could only just see out of the corner of his eye. “Malak’s not Revan.” 

“Hey, kids,” Cass said. “Time to tone it down. We’re going to have to deal with Czerka now, so it’s probably best not to bring up the Dark Lord within earshot of other people.” 

He could  _ feel _ Bastila seethe, but Canderous laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s get this over with. That stooge at the spaceport is having you deliver a message?” 

Cass nodded. “That, and he said they offer hunting licenses here. There’s no other way to get permission to leave Anchorhead, and we need to leave Anchorhead if we have a hope of accomplishing our mission.” 

“Hunting?” Canderous asked. “Big game, right? There’s not much out this way except Dewbacks and Banthas, and if you kill the Banthas, you’re probably going to get taken out by the Sand People that guard those herds.” 

“Sand People would attack anyone.” Cass said as the door to the Czerka offices opened with a cold rush of air. “It doesn’t matter whether you attack their Banthas or not.” 

“Someone who knows what he’s talking about,” said a plain looking woman in clothing more expensive than some of the buildings outside the moment they entered the door. “So I’m sure you’ll understand why I’m about to turn you away, since I can only assume you’re here searching for work.” 

“We’re not here to inquire after joining the mining operations,” Cass replied, taking in her expression, exasperated, tired. 

“Even if you aren’t, I still can’t help you. The Sand People are a problem, and I can’t issue licenses to anyone new until they’re dealt with.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, sinking down into a chair meant to serve as a reception section, glancing toward the Duros man at the desk. “I”m sorry, but whatever you spacers came here for, you’ll have to find it somewhere else.” 

Suppressing a sigh, Cass walked forward, walking toward her. He could already tell his height surprised her, her eyes widening even further when she caught sight of the lightsaber hanging not so subtlety from his belt. “Listen,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest. “I really don’t have a choice but to go out there. There has to be some kind of agreement we can come to.”

Her eyes quickly darted toward his companions, who he realized must be equally intimidating, Bastila if only because she also wore a lightsaber in the open. In these times, it was probably assumed they were Dark Jedi, who were far more common around this Galaxy than the typical members of the Order. 

He didn’t mind working that to his advantage, though he suspected it would bother Bastila if she knew. Thankfully, she could only sense his feelings, not read his thoughts. 

“Well,” the woman began, hesitating further before she seemed to steel herself and look up into his eyes. “You and your companions seem… formidable. I suppose I could grant you the hunting license, but in return, you have to do something for me.”

He considered her words for a moment, and then nodded. “Okay. I seem to be running a lot of errands for your people today anyway,” Cass replied, holding out the holorecording for her to take. “This is from the guy at the docking bay. It’s for someone who works here.” 

She took the recording, her expression mildly confused for a moment, before she centered her thoughts and continued onward. “I’ll give you and your considerably tough looking companions licenses if you agree to go to the Sand Person settlement and kill their Chief. They’ve been attacking our mining convoys with alarming frequency, and our profits are suffering. I’ll pay you for the Chief's gaffi stick, and for the gaffi stick of each Sand Person you bring back to me.”

Canderous’ hand fell near his shoulder, and the man leaned forward, looking the woman over. “Let me get this straight… You’re here on this useless ball of dust  mining ore, and you can’t even deal with some Sand People?” The Mandalorian snorted. “Fine. If you have to outsource, I can’t think of any better people to do the job. Right, Shan?” 

Bastila made a face, presumably because the conversation was distasteful to her, but said nothing. The woman in the chair also seemed to pay no mind to the exchange, keeping her focus on Cass, who looked back at her with a calm expression on his face, arms still crossed squarely over his chest. 

“Well?” She asked. 

“I accept your terms,” Cass replied. “We need to go out into the desert, so we’ll bring you your gaffi sticks.” 

The woman smiled broadly, that false sort of some that reminded Cass of receptionists at clinics, and stuck out her hand. “Then it’s a deal, Mister…?” 

“Jaylen,” he replied as he shook her hand firmly.

“Jaylen,” she replied. “I’ll get those licenses for you right away.”

* * *

Less than a minute after leave the Czerka offices, they were practically assaulted by a Duros wearing a dark brown robe. The clerical work of having a license created specifically so that they would permit anyone in Cass’ company to accompany him into the desert had taken well over an hour to complete, and in that time, Canderous had taken a nap and Bastila had called the Hawk to check on the situation aboard.

He supposed that’s why both of them were caught off guard when the Duros did assail them, cornering them against the side of the building, his bright red eyes narrowed into slits. “I heard what you’ve agreed to do.”

“Pardon me?” Bastila asked, taken aback by the sudden accusation, reaching out to grab Cass’ sleeve, as if to pull him away toward other tasks. “I’m afraid we have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” the Duros said, making no effort to keep his voice down, grabbing the attention of at least half a dozen of Anchorhead’s myriad of citizens, aliens of every shape and size. “You’re contributing to the problem! It was Czerka who originally provoked the Sand People, and now you’re good as declaring war on them!” 

“Great,” Canderous grumbled to Cass. “We’ve attracted a nut. You know that Sand People are dangerous, right? They’d attack your settlement regardless of what any of you did. Maybe you should learn to defend yourselves instead of blaming everyone else for your own weakness.” 

The Duros seemed to swell with anger, anger that also snapped through Cass’ system in response to Bastila’s emotions, though she quickly worked to suppress them.  “Normal people aren’t weak for not having the skills to defend themselves,” she said with icy and affected calm. “Let the man speak. He clearly has more to say.” 

Canderous seemed about to say something back, and Cass was just starting to question his own desire to take both of them with him, when the Mandalorian shut his mouth and shook his head. Apparently he thought the battle wasn’t worth it. 

At least someone did. 

“So if you don’t want us to attack the Sand People,” Cass began before the Duros could respond with more angry, attention grabbing ranting, “what would you suggest? Negotiation?”

With those words, the Duros seemed to deflate, though Cass sensed that it was partly from surprise more than any other emotion. He clearly hadn’t been expecting to be taken seriously… Probably because he knew that what he was saying sounded ridiculous. 

Nervously, the Duros motioned for them to follow with a wave of his grey skinned hand, beckoning for Cass and his companions to follow. “I admit I never expected you to take me seriously,” the Duros said as they trailed after him. “I don’t have much of an idea of how you’d go about it. Their compound has auto turrets outside that kill anyone who get near, so you’d have to find a way to trick the Sand People into letting you past them, and even then, you’d need a way to communicate with them.” 

“What do you suggest?” Cass asked, more out of curiosity than anything else; and perhaps just a bit because his instincts were screaming at him to follow this lead. 

“There’s a protocol Droid in the shop of an acquaintance of mine, an Ithorian named Yuka Laka. I don’t know if it’s true, but he was bragging to me that this droid can speak Sand Person dialect. If you’re really serious about this, I’d start there.” The Duros took a deep breath and looked toward Cass, something earnest glittering in the depths of his large eyes. “Further aggression just puts Anchorhead at risk. Please do what you can to get them to move away without killing them.” 

Cass rubbed the back of his head, his instincts still nagging him about this Droid, and nodded. “I’ll look into it,” he promised. “I don’t really know how we’ll get into their fortified camp, but I’m sure we can think of something.” Cass paused. “Which way is Yuka Laka’s shop?” 

The Duros pointed. “That way. It’s next to the gate. You can’t miss it, not with the scrap heap outside.” There was a brief second’s pause. “Thank you. I’ll leave you to your day now. Just… Thank you.” 

The Duros walked away, and Canderous and Bastila walked to Cass’ side, staring after him. 

“You can’t really be thinking about trying to make peace with the Sand People, can you?” Canderous said, voice full of more than a healthy dose of skepticism. “Weren’t we just talking about how savage they are?” 

“It’s the Droid,” Cass said absently, staring after the Duros, eyes catching sight of dark cloaks moving through the crowd, though he didn’t completely register their presence. “I have a feeling about the Droid.” 

“The Droid?” Canderous asked. “Know what he’s talking about, Shan?”

“I’m afraid not,” she said. “But I can take a guess. Can we really afford this detour, Cassus? Is it worth it to follow your hunches when we should be actively investigating?”

He shook himself and turned to Bastila, brow furrowed deeply as he looked down at her. “Bastila, the Force is pulling me toward the Droid,” Cass said emphatically, pushing the urgency of his feelings toward her deliberately, watching her fumble with them, not sure what to do. “This is important.” 

“Cassus, I don’t think --” 

She was cut off by the sound of a lightsaber igniting as the dark cloaked figures stepped from amongst the press of bodies, the locals muttering and giving the shapes a wide berth. The leader, a pale woman with dark hair and striking yellow eyes, smiled savagely at them, eyes darting between Bastila and Cassus. 

“Finally,” she said, her voice breathy and high, leveling the tip of her blade at them. “You escaped the bombing of Taris, but you won’t escape the arm of the Sith. Lord Malak has commanded you be--”

She stopped speaking with a shout the moment a blaster bolt entered her shoulder and Canderous stepped forward, shouldering past Cass. “Rule number one, Jedi,” he said, “never monologue in front of a Mandalorian.” 

After that, there was no more conversation. 

The woman leapt at Canderous, her blow quickly deflected by Cass lightsaber, which he ignited with a grunt as he threw himself in between the woman and his ally. Staggering his stance, he slid his blade slowly down the length of hers, forcing her to jump backwards as the heat of his lightsaber approached her hilt and hands. 

It was over in an instant, just enough for Cass to hear three more lightsabers ignite with a hum. To his left, he could see Bastila, already falling into position beside him, glancing between him and their three opponents, grim Dark Jedi with glowing eyes. 

They exchanged a glance in the instant before the concourse fell into chaos, an understanding passing between them without words. 

Cass surged forward, bearing down on the leader of the Dark Jedi before she could respond, reaching out with the Force to pull her toward him. She cried out in surprise, but brought her blade up in time to guard against his attack, though he immediately drove back at her with such relentless intensity that he knew it wouldn’t take long to wear her out.

He could hear the battle going on from either side of him, not worried about Canderous, who had spent years fighting Jedi during the Mandalorian Wars. He’d be pretty evenly matched with any Acolyte who had just learned to swing their saber properly. 

In fact, Cass would place his credits on Canderous in that fight. 

Wounded as she was, it didn’t take Cass long to finally wear down the Dark Jedi’s defenses and neatly decapitate her, spinning around just in time for one of the Dark Jedi to fly past his head and hit a moisture vaporator with a loud crack. Bastila, saberstaff in one hand, the other extended, met his eyes, blowing her dark flyaway hair out of her face before she turned toward Canderous and the other Dark Jedi just in time for Cass to see the one she’d pushed away struggling to his feet. 

Not sparing a moment to contemplate how shockingly calm he was in this situation or an ounce of hesitation, Cass jumped forward and landed in front of the man, ramming his saber through their assailant’s chest before he had a chance to full cover. Spinning around, Cass looked toward Bastila and Canderous just in time to see Canderous shoot the last woman through her shoulder, her recoil just enough that she impaled herself on Bastila’s saberstaff. 

The long yellow blade vanished a moment later, and the woman crumpled to the ground in a grey and black pile, leaving Bastila to wipe the sweat from her brow as she looked toward Cass again. She was breathing heavy, the heat bearing down on her neck the same as it was bearing down on them all, her expression expectant, as if she were waiting for him to turn on she and Canderous and kill them, too. 

He chose to ignore it. 

Around them, the people who had stopped to watch were already moving away, pretending like nothing had happened. Cass remembered that the only authority on Tatooine besides Czerka was the Hutts, and that none of the slugs were really very likely to crack down on them for clearing Sith out of their city. 

“You know what I hate about leather?” he asked, shrugging off the jacket to after he hooked his saber back to his belt, swinging it over his shoulder. “It doesn’t breath.”

No one laughed.

He tore his eyes away from Bastila toward the corpse of the Dark Jedi, who lay not far away from him. “Well,” he began, voice more serious. “I guess Malak knows we’re out and about.” 

Not that it was surprising, really. The Sith had fired on them as they’d fled Taris, though it was strange to think that Malak had known who was on the freighter. Maybe he’d sensed Bastila’s presence through the Force? 

“We should hurry and go after your Droid,” Bastila said, apparently refusing to discuss it with him. “We shouldn’t stick around here and let anyone connect us to the bodies.”

With a sigh, Cass let it drop, not mentioning her strange behavior or the countless eyewitnesses. 

“Fine,” he said instead, rubbing the back of his head before he shrugged back into his jacket. “Let’s go after my Droid.”

He’d confront her later. 

Her fear of him was getting too strange for comfort. 


	13. Part Two; Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I had a bout of writer's block. 
> 
> HK-47 Shows up for real next chapter. This chapter is basically just Revan and Bastila Drama Theater.

Yuka Laka’s shop was a dingy and dim little place where the Droids rattled with their bolts and the parts were covered in a fine layer of dust that would have indicated disuse anywhere else but the Tatooine desert. Like all the buildings in Anchorhead, it was tan on the outside, and dark brown on the inside, far cooler than the oppressive heat, if only because of the rattling noise of the cooling system always pressed against one wall. 

It was a far cry from the Czerka building, all refurbished and pretty, bright white and icy cold, but a cooperation associated with the Sith was bound to have money to burn. Revan and Malak had purpose, a booming economy, and loyal followers, while the Republic had only one of those things, and it certainly wasn’t a surplus of financial bounty. It made sense for Czerka to be a component of the engine that fueled their success… A success slowly waning after the loss of their charismatic leader. 

Still, this little ball of dust couldn’t be very lucrative. 

Cass had the sneaking suspicion that Czera was here more to keep an eye on the Star Map than they were here to turn a profit by mining ore, even if they didn’t know that was their purpose. 

“Are you sure there’s anything of value here, Cass?” Canderous asked, steely pale eyes skewering the shady looking Ithorian who nervously followed them with his eyes, hands wringing together. 

He just  _ looked _ like a parts dealer. 

“Ordinarily?” Cass said, his eyes still scanning the dark and cluttered room until they fell upon a tall, rust-colored shape in a dark corner. “I’d say this place is only good if you’re a scavenger who knows what he’s looking for. But…” 

A pair of bright yellow eye plates flashed at him from one corner, and Cass knew almost immediately what he was looking at, even before he saw the Droid’s incredible height, and a build unusual for a mere servant. Strong, sleek, and with a piercing, intelligent gaze, Cass immediately thought of the HK-43 Droids who had been used widescale before the last war to eliminate the opponents of powerful politicians. He was intimately familiar with them, after all, having had one sent off of him, once.

This Droid, though… He looked different from the 43s, somehow. 

Canderous’ low whistle beside him and the jolt of surprise from sullenly quiet Bastila (who had been avoiding him since the battle) were enough of a confirmation of his suspicions that he didn’t hesitate turning to Yuka Laka to ask for price. 

He wasn’t pleased at the answer, but… 

“And he speaks Sand Person dialect?” Cass asked, the Droid still watching from the corner with an intense expression on his face, as if daring Cass to back out of his purchase early. 

If he was some kind of… Assassin Droid knock off, well… That intensity would make a certain sense. 

“Oh, yes. This Droid speaks many languages. That is part of why the price is so high,” Yuka Laka said, still wringing his hands together. “I’m afraid I can’t part with him for a credit less.” 

Cass sighed heavily and pulled his hands through the strands of his dark hair before shaking his head and turning his own intense expression on the parts salesman. “Can you put a hold on him? I’ll be back with the money for him tomorrow.” 

The Ithorian, who clearly didn’t think Cass was actually going to bite at that price, blinked owlishly (and to be fair, Cass wouldn’t have, usually, if he didn’t feel purchasing this Droid was absolutely necessary -- Laka clearly wasn’t about to budge). “Very well. Yes. Yes I can. Tomorrow morning. I won’t hold him a moment longer.”

Not that he’d get anyone else wanting to buy him on this rock, Cass thought, not unless they knew exactly what they'd stumbled on. 

Still, better safe than sorry, not that Yuka Laka would stand much chance against the Sith. 

It was probably better not to announce it. 

As it turned out, Bastila did have something to say to him the moment they exited the little shop into the bright open, blazingly bright sunlight of the Tatooine early afternoon.

Predictably, it was also a complaint. 

“What are you thinking, wasting time on this pointless side quest? And just how do you intend to get that money?”

“Come on,” said Canderous, first to leap to his defense. “You know what that was as well as I do. Do you really think any sane person would pass the chance up to own a Droid that they can take into battle with them?” 

“Yes. Especially because negotiating with the Sand People or running errands for Czerka isn’t what we came here to do,” Bastila said. “We’re supposed to be finding the pieces of the Star Map. All of this is a pointless diversion.”

“And how do you think we’re going to find pieces of the map?” Cass asked, turning around to face her, stopping in the middle of the street to stare down at her, finally letting his restrained emotions pulse toward the surface. “Walking around the Dune Sea and just _ hoping  _ we happen upon the cave?”

Bastila stared up at him with wide, blue eyes, her fear palpable to him, more obvious than it had ever been, no longer masked due to her surprise. It choked her, enough that he could feel the words stuck in her throat before she could speak them, a reaction that disturbed him as much as it gratified him… If only because his suspicions were confirmed. 

“This is a  _ lead _ ,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering. “I’m following a  _ lead _ . The Force is pushing me in this direction. Why can’t you just  _ trust _ me, Bastila?” 

The words seemed to stir emotion in her, guilt and confusion intermingled, though she was already schooling her expression into something steely and difficult to read. “Fine,” she said in a voice that sounded just about as strained as was physically possible. “Fine. We’ll do this your way… This time. I don’t have any better alternatives.” 

Bastila crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him, leaving her staring in a different direction and leaving him with the distinct impression that she was going to spend the rest of the day ignoring him… Unless he did something she didn’t approve of, which was a very distinct possibility, with how he planned to make money. 

“Canderous, you said you’ve been here before?” He said, pushing Bastila from his mind for the time being; there was nothing he could do about his dislike for her. 

“Yeah,” Canderous replied, rubbing a hand across his brow, where sweat beaded. “Before I worked for Davik. I used to run a few odd jobs out here for the Hutts. It’s a good place to lay low.” 

“Know any of the local watering holes? Preferably one with a good pazaak table,” Cass said with a lazy grin, watching Canderous’ eyes light up. 

“I know one. Pretty popular with the locals,” he said with a nod and a grin. “Good drink. Better food. Great gambling.” He could see the gears turning in the man’s head. “Planning on winning the money you need at the tables, Jaylen?” 

“It’s better than swoop,” Cass replied with a shrug, motioning for Canderous to lead the way as he ignored the indignant flare of Bastila’s emotions. “Less dangerous, even if it’s not more lucrative, and if you bet in small enough amounts, less likely to get you killed.” 

Canderous barked a laugh at that. 

“Not a bad idea. Have to admit, you never cease to amaze me,” he motioned to the saber on the other man’s belt. “Better hide that, though. If you plan to cheat, you won’t want to have that on your belt when you do.” 

“Good point.” 

“Wait!” Bastila snapped, breath hissing through her teeth. “You can’t… You can’t actually be planning to do this!”

Cass just glanced over his shoulder, grinned and shrugged, and then turned back around to follow Canderous.

If she wanted to argue with him again, she could take it up with him later, but he didn’t have the luxury of taking the moral high ground like she apparently did. Not right now. Not with so much at stake. 

If he had to gamble in the pursuit of the greater good… 

That was just a risk he was willing to take. 

* * *

By the time they actually reached the little Cantina, marked as popular only by the sheer number of dust covered and sun bleached speeders parked outside the building, Bastila had decided it was better to attempt to convince him not to gamble than to remain silent.

He’d heard one thousand objections as to why it was wrong to use his abilities in the name of personal gain. Apparently it was an abomination to the Force to dare to use it to win at cards, even if he had to make money to accomplish their ultimately noble mission. He should find another way to make the money, a more legitimate way, even if it would take longer and place the rest of the Galaxy at risk.

Ultimately, he could appreciate her point of view, he really could. 

Cass wasn’t sure he could ask anyone else to do this, and if she didn’t want to violate her own moral code, well… She shouldn’t have to. 

He wasn’t asking her to sit at the pazaak table with him and count cards, but he was asking her to understand that he was going to have to take shortcuts if they weren’t going to receive monetary support from the Jedi Council. 

No, what got him about this was… 

She just…

Refused to slow down and shut up long enough to actually recognize the true weight of the situation. 

“Listen,” he said, turning around to look at her from over his shoulder. “I get it. I really do. This is a big deal to you. You don’t have to like it,” He shrugged his shoulders and rolled his neck, walking up to the cantina doors. “But at least recognize that I’ve been backed into a corner, here. There’s nothing legitimate I can do here to get us money, so it’s this or betting on the races.” 

“Trust the Force,” Bastila said, voice clipped, reaching out to grab his sleeve as if to pull him back. “If you trust the Force instead of your own instincts,  _ it _ will show you the way.”

Cass looked at her, her expression earnest enough that it honestly made him pause, though he still pulled his arm away. Canderous had already gone back to the ship to tell everyone what was happening and then disappear to Force knew where, so it was just the two of them, staring each other down. 

Taking a breath through his nose, Cass closed his eyes and calmed himself, pushing his annoyance to the back of his mind. “This  _ is _ what my instincts are telling me to do,” he told her, giving her the courtesy of not looking away, instead staring straight into her eyes. “Just like they lead me on Taris and Dantooine.” 

She opened and closed her mouth, her expression one of complete loss before she reigned herself in and stepped up beside him. “Fine. But I’m going with you,” she said. “I have to make sure that this doesn’t escalate.” 

He gave her a blank look but shrugged his shoulders and entered the cantina anyway, listening to her sigh heavily in defeat only a few steps behind him. Cass did actually empathize with her frustration, what, with how many times she had frustrated him. That being said, there was really no point in arguing with Shan.

She was the only person he’d ever met who was anywhere near as stubborn as he was. 

The Cantina itself was dark and crowded. Honestly, it reminded him a bit of Cantinas he’d been to on on other backwaters, mining communities, mostly. They were dingy places, loud in muted way, and covered in dust. Even the patrons, be they Jawa, disgruntled miner, or space pirate, were covered in a layer of grime that was distinct to Cantinas on outer rim labor worlds. 

“I’m going to order a drink,” Cass told Bastila, glancing over to his right, where she stood looking supremely out of her element. “Eavesdrop on the tables for a bit. Feel free to look around or... “ he shrugged. “I don’t know. What do normal Jedi do in cantinas?” 

She didn’t say anything, casting him a glare from the corner of her eye before walking away, seemingly to investigate the area. Ignoring her, he went to the bar and quietly waved for the attention of the bartender, trying to prick his ears to listen to the sounds of the players at the table directly behind him. 

As it turned out, the game right now was for a pretty big pot, but the pots apparently got steadily larger over the night as the patrons imbibed more and more alcohol and the players with a reckless streak and a possible addiction came into play. Nursing his own drink in his hands, Cass hunched over and, for possibly the first time since crashing on  _ Taris _ , found that he truly felt like himself. 

Sure, it was a dingy little backwater, covered in dust and hotter than the fires of a forge, but it reminded him of a lot of the places he’d smuggled goods to and from before his days flying the Corellian Run. Hopeless, but in a mundane way, not like the soul-crushing depths of the Taris Undercity or the dark and pounding nightclubs run by the Black Sun. It was the sort of common hopelessness that he had just acclimated himself to growing up, the hopelessness of an Outer Rim world dealing with the reality that the Republic or the Jedi would never be invested in their defense. It was a hopelessness that was so profound it had become expected and, in a way, comforting. 

It was almost bitterly funny how he was here to take advantage of their desperation now rather than commiserating with a despair he’d understood from a young age. 

Cass’ internal monologue, as it turned out, was interrupted by a sudden and intense emotional distress that caused him to snap his head sideways in a way that he’d criticize for its lack of subtlety later on. Anger pulsed through him in waves, followed by a burgeoning sense of panic, enough that it momentarily increased his own heart rate before he pushed the emotions away resolutely, dark eyes finally falling on the shapes in a secluded corner of the little building on the opposite side of the bar. 

From here, he could make out the details of an older woman’s face, probably about two decades older than him, something about her reminding him of Bastila’s not so much because she  _ looked _ like Bastila… Just… Because she looked so annoyed with whatever Bastila was saying to her. It was the same expression that Bastila always gave him when she didn’t like something he had said, right down to the furrow of the brow and the unnerving pale gaze. 

It didn’t take long for Cass to piece together parts of what was happening, though he admitted to himself that the feat was mostly due to his being able to sense Bastila’s emotions. He might have known she were uncomfortable otherwise, with as stiffly as she was standing, but honestly? 

Shan kind of always stood that way. 

As it was, it was pretty clear the woman had some kind of connection to Bastila with as many powerful emotions as she was dragging up from the depths of Bastila’s heart. Even with their empathetic bond muted, he could still feel them powerfully, her anger and her affection intermingled with a distinct streak of bright hot bitterness. No matter how still and steely she remained on the outside, right now she was a tumult of emotions… 

Ones he quickly realized were likely to pull her down the Dark Side, but he shrugged away the concern. 

What she did was her business. 

It was for that reason that he felt a bit guilty, especially after realizing how intimate the conversation was. He could only see the older woman’s face, but she was candid and it was written across her expressions, like a book telling a story of extremely fascinating family intrigue that he had no part in. 

And in spite of it all, Bastila’s unease rolled offer her in waves so powerful that he squirmed in his seat, his own sense of discomfort growing, until…

“Kriffing hell,” he muttered half under his breath, glanced over his shoulder to the pazak tables, and then stood and walked over to Bastila.

The expression of the older woman was almost comically stricken when she looked up at him, straight into his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. Bastila, too, was surprised, though she probably shouldn’t be. What else was he supposed to do with her incredibly  _ loud _ emotions goading him into acting? 

“Something wrong, Bastila?” He asked, turning his attention completely to her only to find her already looking up into his face, though he was shocked to find her looking more vulnerable than haughty. 

For a moment, he felt guilty at his own bias, but let the feeling go. 

He’d deal with that baggage later. 

“It’s…” Bastila began, voice halted, more upset than he’d ever heard it in his time knowing her. “I… This is my mother.” She finally managed, gesturing vaguely toward the woman. “But I was just about to leave. We have  _ nothing _ to talk about.” 

The last sentence snapped between Bastila and her mother like lightning across a desert sky, and the older woman looked at least as stricken. 

“I’ll meet you back at the ship,” Bastila said, casting one last hot glance at her mother, her anger deflating when she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “I’ll… explain later. Have… fun with your game.”

For some reason, he believed it, watching her retreat from the Cantina.

Bastila had never struck him as dishonest. Uppity. Quick to anger. But not dishonest. 

“You’re a friend of my daughter’s?” Came the sharp and uncompromising voice of the pale eyed woman in front of him, her tone suggesting disbelief and perhaps a bit of hesitance, yet. 

“We travel together,” Cass replied, glancing down at the woman, wondering how it was possible that Bastila had inherited so much of her mother’s demeanour when she was probably raised primarily by the Jedi. “I’m a Jedi, believe it or not.” 

Now that he was looking at her, there was no mistaking her as anything other than Bastila’s mother even if she looked very little like the woman, outside of her eyes. They had the same stiff posture, the same air of judgement about him, the only difference being that this woman wasn’t afraid of him… Even if he suspected she was a bit off-put by the fact that he towered over her. 

“You’re not dressed like a Jedi,” the woman said, her eyes traveling up and down his form again. “But there’s something about you that reminds me of my daughter, so I’m willing to believe it.” 

For a moment, all was quiet, Cass really not prepared to say anything else to her, though the woman herself didn’t seem content to let the conversation drop. Instead, she sucked in a breath and held it before exhaling, her expression soothing into something that screamed “battle axe” ever so slightly less. 

“Listen, if it’s true that you’ll see her later, I…” She gulped in another breath, as if trying to draw the ability to be vulnerable from the oxygen she was inhaling. “Please speak to her. I need her to understand that what I need to talk to her about is important.” She huffed, her pale eyes flashing with anger, followed by softening sadness. “She’s so proud. So much like her father. But I’m…” 

The woman shifted, and finally looked truly vulnerable the moment she looked away from him completely. “I’m dying. I need the closure, and I can’t leave things like this.”

Cass chest constricted, thinking about his own parents, greyed with age, whom he hadn't’ spoken to for the better part of a few decades. For all he knew now, they were dead, aged from grey to white, lying underneath the dirt. It hurt to think that maybe he’d caused more harm than good when he struck out on his own, what he might have done to them when he’d left them behind. 

“I don’t have the whole story,” Cass said, leaning against the wall next to her and crossing his arms over his chest as he looked his way out into the Cantina. “I’d feel wrong interfering in your family business.” 

He could practically feel her deflate, but held up one of his hands, glancing down toward her from the corner of his eye. Up close, she and Bastila had more in common than he’d initially thought, though he couldn’t really place any concrete similarities besides the eyes. “That being said, this could affect our mission. I’ll talk to her about resolving it because I can sense it will distract her, but I can’t make any promises, Mrs. Shan.” He smiled wryly. “Don’t know that she’ll listen to me anyway.” 

“At least you’re willing to try,” the woman said, a small, sad smile gracing her features and somehow emphasizing the sallow paleness of her skin. “That’s more than most would be willing to do.”

Her words were heavy enough to weigh on the back of his mind as he made his way to the pazaak table.

* * *

 

The Tatooine night was cold and bright, but in a different way than the day. Red gold sands turned into white silver, the sky an infinite expanse dominated by the moon and stars. It couldn’t be more different from polluted Coruscant if it tried, he thought as he walked through the night back toward the docking bay and the Hawk. Everything was polluted on that world, even the night, so bring with light that the sky was turned a sickly grey. It may be dusty here, but it was clean in a way the city worlds would never be.

It was so desolate that it made him miss home. 

Cass had been thinking about home almost all night because of Bastila and her mother, and even though he’d managed to clean pretty much everyone at the table out by the end of the night, the victory felt oddly hollow to him in that moment. Sure, he’d gotten the credits for the Droid, but what real good did it do him when everything else was so busted? 

What was he even  _ doing _ here? 

Living Force, he was a drifter and a smuggler! They didn’t have grand purposes or get sucked into the middle of a large scale galactic war because of their inescapable destinies. Their loyalty was to their purse, and his had been, it kriffing had been until that stupid recruiter in that dingy little Cantina had looked at him with eyes full of hope and determination. 

And then suddenly money didn’t matter anymore. 

“When’d you grow a conscience, Jaylen?” Cass muttered to himself stormily, kicking a stone in his path, watching it skitter across the dirt path before it came to rest at a pair of familiar boots. 

Dragging his eyes upward as he came to stand completely still in the darkness, he found himself staring at Bastila, looking almost otherworldly in the moonlight. Actually, she’d never looked to him before like she did in that moment, her blue eyes wide and stricken, the olive undertones more obvious in her skin for a reason he didn’t quite understand. She was dressed down, every usually carefully contained piece hair flowing in long, straight, strands down her shoulders like a dark waterfall. 

Against his better judgement, he found himself dumbstruck by it, if only because she looked so vulnerable. 

It was a relief to see her look just as stricken. 

“Cassus,” she breathed so softly he could barely hear her.

He could feel her fear pulse between them, though this time it was tinged with shame, as if he’d caught her doing something far more shameful than going for a late night stroll through Anchorhead. 

“You’re back.” 

“I couldn’t stay out all night,” he replied with a shrug, feeling too numb and tired to make anything resembling a joke. Heaving a sigh, he hesitated, and then glanced around. “To be honest, though, I don’t really know if I can go back, either. I’m feeling a bit… restless.” He didn’t flash her a grin and jammed his hands farther into his pockets. “Care if I join you?” 

She hesitated, but nodded, stepping up to stand beside him, her arms crossed uncomfortable over her chest before she set off in a random direction. Cass ambled along beside her in silence, their boots scuffling over the trampled sand, the wind whistling distantly in the wide desert beyond Anchorhead. 

They continued that way for some time until he finally caught her staring at him with her large, curious eyes, motioning for them to stop as he lead her into a little alcove with a bench, sinking his weight onto the clay structure. Hesitatingly, she sat beside him, the distance between then like a gulf that emphasized the little pangs of fear he could sometimes feeling emanating from her, and for the first time, he let his sadness crash against her like waves crashed against the shorelines of Corelia. 

Her eyes widened further, two bright spots in the shadowed alcove, pools of light that reflected more than she would ever realize. Cass found himself wondering if she realized how candid she really was, that her face didn’t hide everything she thought it could, and that sometimes he could tell her thoughts even without the empathetic bond between them. 

“You have something to say, Bastila?”  He asked, his voice so soft he almost didn’t recognize it, fear pulsing in his own chest desperately enough that was caught spiraling in his throat for half a second. 

He didn’t recognize himself right now, and it was the most terrifying thing he’d ever experienced. 

“If she cornered you after I left, I… I feel I owe you an apology,” Bastila managed, choking out the words like they were painful for her, starring anywhere but at his face. “My mother has always been a harsh woman. I remember nothing but her anger from when I was young, and the way she treated my kind and doting father.” 

“She wanted me to ask you to come back,” he said, wringing his hands together in front of him, the knot in his throat refusing to leave. “I don’t know what this is about, and it’s honestly not any of my business, but if it were me, I wouldn’t want to leave it this way. I’d want some closure.” 

“What do you know?!” Bastila snapped, cracking on the last syllable, and for once it wasn’t anger that filled his chest at her outbursts. “How can you possibly understand?!” 

Watching her, the way her hair looked flyaway and dark in the cold desert night, the way her luminous blue eyes seemed wet enough to spill over, it was so obvious to him that she was just young and afraid. He’d been that way once, lost and alone, stuck in a situation where he felt like he had to be the one to carry everyone or his team would fail. 

Fear was quickly replaced by anger at the Jedi, and he shook his head, gulping it down, the pervasive melancholy still making his throat tight. The reason why didnt really matter anymore. 

“She’s going to die, Bastila,” he said to her, his voice softer than he ever thought it could be as he reached out his hand to place it on her shoulder. “Don’t let yourself lose this chance to deal with your baggage.” 

Her breath hitched and her body tensed, but she didn’t draw away from him. Instead she stared up into his face, emotions flickering across it more quickly than he could follow, even with the thread that bound them together. For a moment, it seemed like they were suspended on the edge of that thread, prepared to tip one way or another, for Bastila to either fall closer to him, or back across the chasm that separated them. 

And then, in one sudden surging moment of emotion, Bastila fell forward. 

Shoulders slumping, her entire body trembling underneath his touch, she bowed her head and buried her face in her hands, tears flowing freely. He could still feel her shame, but the fear had all but vanished, replaced by the chest achingly familiar desire for comfort and solidarity in a Galaxy so massive that their needs were lost amongst the black between the stars. 

Quietly Cass reached out, brushing his feelings against hers once again, feeling her push back and finally, finally open up to let him in. All at once, the force of his own emotions and hers filled him, sorrow, regret, shame, anger, fear, resentment… All swirled through the cavity in his chest, but it wasn’t a torrent of emotion that bombarded him until he couldn’t stand.

Feeling the press of her mind against his own made it bearable, the agony lessened into something bittersweet enough that his throat was still tight but his heart could withstand it. Cassus could  _ feel _ her,  _ all _ of her, enough that his own eyes almost felt raw as the sun bleached desert even though he hadn’t shed a single tear. It was an embrace without touching, the echos of her trapped in his heart, his hand on her shoulder an anchor lest he completely float away in the strange comfort of having another spirit in such perfect harmony with his. 

They sat there until her body no longer shook, until she shrugged his hand away and stood, slowly distancing herself from him. There was a strange reluctance to it, something he had expected from her only slightly more than the look of quiet gratitude she gave him when she looked down into his face. 

“I’ll go speak to her in the morning,” Bastila said softly, her expression softer than she had ever seen it in the time he’d known her. “You’re right. I… I want closure. If I don’t speak to her… It…”

“You don’t have to say it,” Cass barely recognized his own voice, far more gentle and wise than he’d ever heard it before, almost like a real Jedi. “I understand.”

Bastila laughed, a small sound, but a shockingly genuine one. Shaking her head, she gave him the first look he’d ever seen on her face that wasn’t filled with judgement, quickly glancing away with an embarrassed glow coloring her cheeks. Oddly enough, he found it endearing, but told himself it was just because of the strange emotional closeness they’d just shared. 

“If you ever need … Anything…” She managed almost painfully, looking back toward him with eyes so earnest they almost made him feel naked with their intensity. “You’re nothing like I thought you would be. I… I’m sorry. Cassus.” 

And then, as if the apology caused her physical pain, she quickly turned around and disappeared into the night, leaving him to stare after her. 

For a long moment, Cass sat alone on that bench with his thoughts, trying to piece together the meaning of what had just passed between them to little avail. Perhaps if he slept on it, he reasoned as he stood, still thinking about how desolate this galaxy and his own thoughts sometimes felt. 

_ Though perhaps _ , something whispered in the back of his mind, something he struggled desperately to ignore. 

_ Perhaps just a little less lonely than before. _


	14. Part Two: Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! Surprise update!
> 
> Long chapter, and it was GOING to be longer, but I changed my mind. 
> 
> I probably have one or two more chapters left on Dantooine to outline the Great Tall One's journey across the desert.

He woke the next morning with a crick in his neck to Canderous still snoring so loudly that it sounded like a saw. It was so loud that it  buzzed down his spine and forced him to kick off the covers, even though he suspected he could have still stolen an hour of sleep before going out into the world.

He  _ wanted _ to steal an hour of sleep. 

Cass rubbed his forehead and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to fight off his mounting tension headache. If they were going to have to go into the desert today, he didn’t want to go into the desert with a splitting head. The sunlight would only make it worse, and then the constant threat of  _ dehydration _ … 

**_Breathe._ **

Cass took a deep breath and reluctantly trusted on the thread of instinct inside of him, tried to push his apprehension to the back of his mind. He didn’t have time to contemplate these strange things, the things that he didn’t quite understand, bubbling up inside of him. If he thought about it right now, he was sure it would just lead back to Revan and he had no more desire to be compared to that man by anyone, let alone himself. 

So he centered himself, remembered that he could always rely on the strong current of the Force, and somehow managed to find peace in spite of it all. His emotions calmed, the headache vanishing, he found himself emerging a few moments later into a ship alive with more noise than Canderous’ snoring could ever provide. 

From the moment he stepped into the common area, he was bum rushed with a thousand complaints, about the ship, about the cramped quarters, about Canderous’ snoring keeping everyone awake. And then there was Mission, who immediately demanded to be taken with them out in the desert because she’d been  _ snooping _ and--

Something about her brother Gryff? Hell if he knew. He couldn’t hear anyone because they were all talking at once. 

“Hey,” he said, trying to get their attention, realizing quickly that he wasn’t going to get it just by speaking in his normal voice. 

With a grunt, he pushed passed Mission, walked up to the ship’s comm system, and pressed the button, speaking into it. “Attention crew of the Ebon Hawk, this is Cass speaking. Kindly shut your mouths and I’ll address your problems one at a time.” 

Just like that, everyone shut up, though from looking at their faces, he was willing to guess it was more out of surprise than anything. Still, it was pretty glorious to finally have them all standing at attention instead of at each other’s throats. They’d get a lot more done this way. 

“Thank you,” he said, leaning back against the terminal. “First matters first,” he said as he glanced toward Mission, who was practically begging him with her big, youthful eyes. “You had something important to say?”

“T3 helped me track down my brother,” the young woman said as she straightened her back. “We spent all day sleuthing and found out that he was working as a miner for Czerka but went missing during one of the Sand People raids. Apparently the sand people are keeping a lot of the miners captive.” She took a deep breath, “Cass--”

But he held up his hand. “You don’t have to beg me. I’m not cold hearted enough to tell you that you can’t come with me to save your brother. He’s family, right?” 

He was a bit worried about taking her out into the desert, but if she could survive on Taris alone for so many years, he was pretty kriffing sure she could adapt to this mission. Besides, Cass wasn’t actually planning to attack the Sand People anyway, so it was really more of a matter of making it to their settlement through the blazing heat… And hoping that they could find a way to sneak past the turrets they’d been warned about, and that the Sand People would be too intrigued to kill them if they had a translator. 

“Thanks,” Mission said, her shoulder relaxing. “I’m gonna go get my stuff. And talk to Big-Z. I told him I don’t want him going out in the desert with the heat with all his fur--” 

Whatever else she was saying, Cass didn’t hear it as she walked away, leaving him with Carth, who looked annoyed, and Juhani, who looked bored. “Okay, who’s next? Anyone else have anything important and pressing to talk about?”

“No,” Carth said. “Just a bit stir crazy, I think. It’s getting hard to be stuck in a ship with the same people all day.”

“If you need to take shifts to walk around Anchorhead, you can. I’m not keeping you here. It’s not like I’m…” he was going to say the leader of this mission, but he was quickly realizing that everyone looked at him that way, since he was the one solving disputes, giving orders, and assigning duties. “A tyrant.” 

“So as long as we assign our own shifts and make sure someone is with the ship,” Juhani said, some of the tension seeming to have left her shoulders since she last spoke, “we are free to explore at our leisure?” 

“As long as we’re all here and ready for departure after we find the Star Map? Yeah.” Cass shrugged. “You’re all old enough to make informed decisions, and even from a practical standpoint, it would be pretty damn foolish to leave you all cooped up here. You might mutiny.” He grinned. “I don’t have time to find replacements.” 

They seemed to exchange glances, but it was around that time that Cass realized he couldn’t immediately sense Bastila’s presence. Running his hand through his hair, he released another long sigh, recalling that she was going to see her mother this morning before he looked toward Carth. “When Mission gets done talking to Zaalbar, tell her to meet me and Bastila in the concourse. I have a droid to buy and no time to waste.” 

He wasted no time on staying to hear their responses, finding himself a bit worried about Bastila and what she might discover talking to her mother. Maybe it was a misplaced sense of worry,  maybe he was being paranoid or foolish, or he really shouldn’t be bothering, considering how much she feared and distrusted him, but he couldn’t help it. 

After last night… 

Cass headed back to his room where he exchanged the clothing he’d worn to sleep for his proper Jedi robes, feeling odd wearing them. The fabric was coarser than what he was used to, but not completely uncomfortable, and they made him look… Honestly, he was sure he actually  _ did  _ look like Jedi this time, with his stubble quickly turning to a full beard. He might look the role, but he certainly didn’t  _ feel _ it, awkward in the clothing, wanting his jacket back but quickly realizing… 

Well, he  _ was _ a Jedi, wasn’t he? He’d had the training. He knew the Code. The Force was his responsibility to use in a way that was productive, especially if he didn’t want to be like Malak. He’d seen the way Dark Jedi used the Force. 

It was his compromise with Bastila, though he’d never discussed it with her. She’d shown him such trust last night that he couldn’t… He couldn’t not return the favor somehow. 

“You  _ are _ a Jedi,” he told himself, and then he left the ship before anyone could see him. 

Shockingly enough, he found that the robes breathed much more than his other clothes, and that he was almost cool wearing them. He attributed that much to the Force, though that was mostly intuition whispering in the back of his head. 

True to form, though, wearing this robes, with his lightsaber hanging from his belt… 

It drew attention. 

The people of Anchorhead either gaped openly at him or glanced warily at him from the corner of their eyes. Their expressions ranged from awe, to confusion, to fear, leaving Cass to recall how rare true Jedi had become and how often they were mistrusted just as much as the Sith. Hadn’t he been the one to tell Carth there wasn’t much of a distinction to everyone other than the most loyal Republic soldiers and citizens? That outworlders might actually  _ prefer _ the Sith simply because Revan had protected them from the Mandalorians? 

Sure, Tatooine hadn’t been a major target during the Wars, but Czerka was here now, and Czerka had an alliance with the Sith. This world… It was possible Malak had eyes and ears here, it was possible he could find out  _ exactly _ where they were. 

The last Dark Jedi had been a coincidence, but there was no promise other encounters would be accidental. 

Malak would be a fool not to try and kill them. 

Taking a deep breath, Cass pushed those thoughts from his mind, startling himself and Bastila when he walked toward the door of the Cantina and found her already exiting the building. He could see her shock in her eyes, but was relieved to find there was little fear there, even as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him off to one side so the patrons behind her could exit. Cass was willing to bet most of them had been here all night. 

Perhaps Bastila’s mother was paying money to stay here? 

“Cassus,” Bastila said, her voice tense but not annoyed, her small, calloused hands shaking as she gripped at his robe. “I… I wasn’t expecting to see you until I got back to the ship. Did you come to find me?” 

“I’ll admit I was a bit worried,” Cass said, gently untangling her fingers from the sleeve of his robe. “Bastila…” He breathed out softly. “What’s wrong?” 

He watched her swallow before she looked up into his eyes, crossing her arms over her chest uncomfortably. “Can I trust you, Cassus? You… You can’t tell anyone else.” 

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder to steer her farther away from the building and any prying ears. “I think you know that, too. Who am I going to tell? Besides, it’s your secret.” 

She searched his face, hesitated for half a breath, and then nodded as if she had just decided to make a very serious decision. It occurred to Cassus in that moment, just before she drew breath to speak, that this was probably the opposite of how it was supposed to be. Wasn’t she the Jedi Knight and he the Padawan?

Then again, this was about emotions and how to deal with them, wasn’t it?

The Jedi didn’t have the best track record when it came to raising emotionally healthy people. 

Every Jedi he’d ever met had been emotionally constipated, at first, and Bastila was no exception. 

“My mother was the one who gave me to the Order,” Bastila said hastily. “My father was doting on me, and I still remember… How… How harsh she was on him. On  _ us _ . I found out from her today what she wants from me. “ She drew in a shuddering breath and he could tell that she was fighting back tears, staring at his chest instead of his face, though he had the impression that it wasn’t because of the impracticality of looking up into his eyes this time. “My father is dead. He died here, on Tatooine. She wants me… to find… to find his datacron.” 

For a moment Cass was silent, waiting to see if she would say anything else, before he found himself kneeling in the dirt in front of her just to be closer to eye level. Reaching out, he placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to get her to take this seriously, to  _ trust  _ him, for once in her damn life. “What do you want to do?” 

She blinked at him, seeming taken aback for a moment before she drew in a deep breath, her face hardening in what he could feel was determination. “I’m going to find it. It’s all I have… All I have left of my father. I… never got to say goodbye.” Bastila rubbed her hand over her face. “Maybe if I resolve this, I can leave this behind me. Maybe I can become the Jedi I’m supposed to be. These attachments are…” She shook her head. “Will you help me? She told me my father was on one of his hunts for treasure out in the Dune Sea. I doubt I can find it alone.” 

Cass nodded, dropping his hands, knowing that if she wanted to come to him for comfort, she would later. “Did she give you any other clues to where this thing might be?”

“He… He was looking for a Krayt Dragon’s pearl.” Bastila said resolutely, finally looking him straight in the eye. 

“A Krayt…” Cass took a breath and stopped himself from saying something stupid and insensitive. “Okay. Fine. We’ll… We’ll see what we can do. We’re heading to the Dune Sea anyway, so maybe…” 

“You don’t have to try to comfort me.”

“I’m not,” Cass said, seeing no reason to be dishonest with her. “I’m trying to reason my way through this.” He paused, softening his voice even as he pushed himself from his knees. “You coming to help with the Sand People? Or do you need… time?”

“I…” Bastila’s face fell again and she shook her head. “If it’s all the same to you, I don’t think I should be alone, at the moment.” 

“That’s fine with me. We’re going to buy a Droid and wait for Mission.”

“Mission?”

“She’s found her brother,” Cass said with a shrug and a smile. “I’ll admit I don’t know the whole story, but it’s her business what she does and doesn’t want to do. Come on. I want to go out into the sweltering heat sooner rather than later. The day’s wasting away.” 

Bastila gave him a strange look, shook her head, and then walked past him, leaving him to follow in her wake. 

They made good time, walking in an oddly companionable silence, though it was tense. He thought that it might be Bastila, her emotions uncertain as she tested herself and her understanding of their Bond. He himself was pretty wary, worried that they could slip back into chaos at any second, and that she would soon hate him again and avoid him as she had on Dantooine, at least… emotionally. They were supposed to be a team, and he wanted them to stay that way. 

Unfortunately, they were soon interrupted by a sudden brown blur shooting out from an alleyway to yell at Cass in a language he understood… But just barely, with how quickly it was being spoken. 

Jawaese? 

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Cass replied in Galactic Basic. “I caught something about the Big Ones and your tribe, and that’s all I heard. Take a breath. Start over. Please.” 

The little Jawa, bright yellow eyes staring at him from behind his heavy, brown hood, crossed his arms over his chest and did appear to do just that. He took a deep breath, and then began to speak again. “Iziz never thought he see big Desert Walker again. Last time Iziz let you look at map so this time you do Iziz favor, yes?” 

Bastila’s eyes widened so much that they looked like saucers, and she seemed about to say something to the small man, but Cass held up his hand. “I’m sorry, Iziz, but I have no idea who you are.” His instincts screamed at the word map, and he took a deep breath. “It’s possible you’re mistaking me for someone else. What’s this about a favor, though? My friend and I might still be able to help.”

“Iziz know Desert Walker. One of two humans tall enough to cast long shadow. Still, maybe Iziz mistake. Humans all look the same to Iziz.” The Jawa began to pace, nervously. “Iziz’s tribe been taken by Big Ones, Sand Walkers. You help Iziz and Iziz make good bargain. Iziz… Iziz give you map that shows location of special cave.” 

Special cave?

Cass’ senses sung. 

“Even without the map, I’d help you,” Cass said to the Jawa, “but I think I may need that map. I’m looking for something in the desert. A map of a different kind.”

“Yes, yes that is exactly what Desert Walker said,” the Jawa nodded and wrung his hands together, but Cass could tell he was relieved to be taken seriously. “He and the Bare One searched for map in cave. Paid Iziz clan in scrap for look at map. Made good deals with scrap. Iziz give map to you for help.”

Bare One? Desert Walker? 

Was the Jawa talking about Malak and Revan? 

He had to be, almost certainly.

But in that case… 

The Jawa had mistaken  _ him _ for Revan.

Kriffing Force, was he getting sick of the comparisons. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll bring them back. Where do I find you?”   
Iziz the Jawa shook his head. “Iziz find you. Very easy to see.” 

Cass snorted. “Right. I get it, I’m tall.” 

“Do not worry, Great Tall One. You save Iziz Tribe, you get Iziz map.” 

“You can count on my return,” Cass said, glancing off toward the city gates, thinking about how they’d be walking through them in less than an hour. “And on the return of your tribe.” 

Iziz said nothing else, giving him one more once over with those large, lantern like eyes, before he turned and disappeared into the teeming crowd. Cass stared after him for a moment, trying to shake a feeling of deja vu, before he turned back to Bastila, running his hand over his young beard thoughtfully. “Well, that was fortuitous.” 

Bastila looked up at him for a moment before she sighed heavily. “No, Cassus, that was the Force.” She hesitated for a moment. “It seems I owe you an apology. You were right to pursue the Droid after all.”

Cass shrugged. “I told you that I always trust my instincts. It just happened to pay off just as much this time as last time.” Kicking a stone with his boot, Cass turned his attention back to their mission. “Speaking of Droids…”

“You’re right,” Bastila said, setting out. “We shouldn’t waste time.”

He couldn’t help but feel like there was something going unsaid between them, but decided to give her the space and time to say it. Cornering Bastila didn’t seem like the best method to get her to talk. 

If she wanted to address it, she’d come to him in her own time. 

He just had to wait. 

* * *

 

Yuka Laka had been more than happy to relinquish the Droid to Cass and his party, and right away, Cass realized why. The Droid, as to be expected of a Droid that demanded to be armed during a trek through the desert, had a dry and sarcastic sense of humor that seemed to grate on uptight Bastila and anxious Mission. It was compounded by the heat, ten times more intense than anything Cass could remember experiencing in his entire life, and the fact that Cass found the Droid funny… 

A bit  _ too  _ funny, maybe. 

Funny and  _ brutal _ . 

Honestly, it was starting to grate on even Cassus, who had developed an iron patience while training on Dantooine for a month. Spending every day with Vrook had granted him the ability to stay his tongue even if he had the best of comebacks on the tip of it, no matter how gratifying the response would be. He knew his responses could sometimes be childish, that his impulses were often harmful or, frankly, simply  _ stupid _ , as good as it felt to make the people around him squirm. Especially if those people were Jedi. 

This droid seemed to have been created by a person who had all of his natural charm with none of his self-control. 

“Cassus, if you do not shut that Droid up, I will turn him into a pile of scrap and leave him in the desert to rust!” Bastila snapped, her pretty face strained with the heat, dark brow furrowed as she turned to look over her shoulder. 

“You think I have any control him?” Cassus asked, turning to HK-47. “Listen, I would really appreciate it if you would stop chattering on, for the sake of my sanity, if not the lady’s. If you do, I promise I’ll personally perform a tune-up on you later.” 

“Snide Statement: A personal tune-up, Master? I’m sure your hands aren’t clumsy at all! I trust you implicitly.” 

Spinning around, Cass placed his hand on the Droid’s shoulder and stared into the depths of his cold, soulless eyes… Not because he was a Droid, necessarily, just because the Droid was an unrepentant jerk. “Listen, HK,” he said, pressing his finger directly to the Droid’s vocabulator, “I could take you apart and put you back together, and if I do, your vocabulator might be tuned up a few octaves so that deep, scary voice of yours sounds like you’ve been sucking helium. Do you really want to press me right now?” 

“Shocked but Gratified Indignation: Is that a threat, Master? I had no idea you were capable of such brutality!” 

“I’m capable of a lot of things, HK. Now shut up.” 

Though the droid didn’t shut up completely after that, his snide statements became infrequent enough that both Mission and Bastila seemed to relax as much as either of them could at the moment. For that, he was thankful, if only for the sake of his own sanity. Even Cass had his limits when it came to his patience, and tramping through the blazing hot desert transformed his normally fairly long fuse into something much shorter. 

Flipping his hood back over his head, Cass looked out toward the stranded Sandcrawler that he’d been told by the door guard was a Jawa transport that had been attacked by Sand People some time ago. The Czerka miners used it as a landmark to let them know they were heading in the right direction, and it meant they were only another few hours in good weather from the Sand Person village. 

Desert travel left him much to consider, like how grateful he was for rain and water, and how he was glad Korriban, where they also had to travel, was a much colder desert than this. He honestly thought he would rather deal with an entire academy of Sith than ever step foot on Tatooine again, if he could personally help it. 

More importantly, though, it made him think about how they were going to get past the turrets outside of the damn Sand Person village. They could send the Droid to the door, but Cass didn’t trust the Drooid to listen to his orders enough to allow him to negotiate anything on his own. They’d end up slaughtering the entire compound, women and children, if he let this metal menace have his way. 

Oddly  _ endearing _ metal menace. 

His answer came to him a moment later in the form of three blurry tan shapes scrambling out from behind a downed speeder, screaming and howling loud enough that the sound carried off the sand, echoing for miles through the dry hair. 

“Look alive,” Cass said to Bastila, casting her a cheeky grin. “I have a brilliant plan, and you’re going to hate it.” 

Bastila audibly groaned. “I suppose you’ll tell me what it is after we defeat these marauders?” 

“Waste no more energy than you have to,” he said more loudly, still grinning, watching Mission nod grimly and pull her blasters from the holster on her hips. 

“Gleeful Exclamation: Oh, finally! A fight! I’m excited to paint the sand with the blood of these savages, Master.” HK-47 practically sang as he swung his blaster rifle from his shoulder and leveled it in the nearest Sand Person’s direction. 

Centering himself, Cass reached out with the Force to pull one of the Sand People toward them, listening to the man wail in terror as he did so. Igniting his saber just in time for the raider to impale himself on the long, violet blade, Cass pushed the corpse back with the Force, and into another one of the Sand People, listening to him clamour with the body more than watching.

Standing nearly directly behind him, HK had already picked off the other Sand Person with a shot between the eyes, Bastila bearing down on the last, struggling marauding desert dweller to fell him with a stroke of her saberstaff. 

“I didn’t even get to do anything,” Mission mock complained, though Cass sensed she was somewhat forcing her cheerfulness. “Come on, Flyboy, leave some for me. I could have been your smuggler apprentice, you know.” 

Cass laughed at that, a sudden surge of fondness for the Twi’lek filling his chest, walking over to place a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe next time, Mission. I’m sure there will be plenty more fights where that come, just… maybe not right now.” 

Pulling away from her, he kneeled by one of the Sand People, examining the robes before he nodded. “I have a plan, and you’re really not going to like it. I need you, Bastila, and you, Mission, to dress up in these and pretend I’m your prisoner. We know the Sand People take captives so it’s not out of the blue for you to do it now.” 

“Are you… joking?” Bastila asked, before sighing heavily. “You were right. I don’t like this.” 

“You’ve got a better plan? We need to get into their compound to negotiate the hostage situation somehow. I figure we’ll have to do some trading and bartering, which probably means heading back toward Anchorhead. Thankfully, the Sand Person village really isn’t that far away.” 

Too far to see, and it felt like months in the desert, but on Dantooine, he might have made strolls this far in an afternoon and not felt it. 

It was going into the deep desert to get the Map that was going to be a pain. 

Possibly quite literally. 

“Fine,” Bastila sighed, walking toward one of the Sand People whose robes were less charred. “But you owe me for this, Cassus, and I expect you to repay your debts.” 

“Am I not a man of my word… Princess?” He said with a grin, watching her already flushed face turn an even more brilliant shade of red, finding her embarrassed tantrums oddly endearing, as usual. 

“Call me that again, and I  _ swear- _ -” Bastila cut herself off and took deep, calming breaths. “We’ll discuss this later.” 

It took them very little time to figure out how to work the Sand People out of the voluminous robes and work themselves into them. While they were struggling, HK made witty and biting commentary about their competence, hiking Bastila’s blood pressure up further, he was sure. With Cass help, though, they did manage, and once again set off, the Sand Person that he was sure was Bastila jabbing her gaffi stick into all of the sensitive parts of his back on purpose. 

He really deserved that for the Princess comment, and forced himself to take back what he had said about having gained self-control… Or at least, to add a clause. Bastila would always be fun to rile up, perhaps against his better judgement.  

As it was, in this formation, it really didn’t take them long at all to reach the distant Sand Person village, perhaps because, once they passed the Crawler, things seemed to go a lot more quickly. The desert evened out, turned flatter, and it made traveling faster, if not any more fun. 

The moment of truth slowly approached, and the turrets came and went without fuss, though the moment they reached the gate, Cass realized their disguise had failed. The Sand Person there made an angry growling noise, though it seemed more cautious than likely to be outright provoked in that moment. 

HK, mechanical servos practically sighing, patted the butt of his rifle wistfully and began to speak. “Translation: He is shocked to find that we were clever enough to make it past the turrets, and though he is not happy about it, our ingenuity makes us worthy of meeting with their Chief.” The Droid paused. “Oh please let us kill them, Master. It would be so easy if they’re going to let us waltz into their camp like this!”  

“Tell him that we accept his terms,” Cass said, ignoring HK’s pleading, vowing to talk to the Droid about his history in private later on, if only because he wanted to know what the kriff kind of builder created a Droid to speak Sand Person. 

HK sighed once more, but dutifully did as he was told, his words coming out in a series of mechanical clicks and screams. 

The Sand Person grunted in response, reached out to pull the hoods off of Bastila’s and Mission’s heads, and marched them through the Sand Person village. In and of itself, the structure was relatively sound, but Cass could see the ways in which it might be easy to pick up and move around, if you put it onto the backs of Banthas. All around them, curious and wary villagers stared after them from behind goggled faces, holding their children close, making Cass wonder if maybe the Duros did have a point and the Sand People were just…

Feudal and territorial. 

It didn’t take long before they standing in front of the Chieftain, who wore slightly different robes and was already screaming at them in the strange Sand Person language, forcing HK to translate as quickly as he could. 

“Translation: Master, he wonders why you are here, and what would make you so bold as to approach them in this way. He suggests you answer as quickly as possible.” 

The subtle shift of his guards was enough to bely that the Chieftain was not bluffing. 

“Tell him that I’m here to broker peace between Anchorhead, and am willing to do a task of his choice in order to convince him to leave the area and stop attacking the caravans,” Cass said, casting the Droid a glare, but it didn’t seem to be a problem, because after the Droid had finished speaking, the guards backed away as the Chieftain spoke in his guttural cries. 

“Begrudging Translation: He doesn’t believe you, Master. No one has ever been willing to approach them in such a way before. He is demanding that you compensate him for leaving by giving them the moisture vaporators necessary to live so far out into the desert. He will give you leave to go fetch some and return here, but has little faith you will return. Approach the village only if you have the vaporators, or you will be shot on sight.” 

“Tell him that I understand, and that I’ll be back with the vaporators. He can count on it.” 

HK translated, and then they were summarily escorted from the premises, though he could tell Mission was eager to go snooping about the compound, and practically turned on him in anger the moment they left. “Flyboy! I need to find my brother! You didn’t even ask about the hostages!” 

“There’s no use in asking for anything extra until we’ve proven we can be trusted,” Cass said, kneeling in the sand in front of her, reaching out to place both of his hands on her shoulders. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to find and save your brother, but right now I need you to trust me.” 

Mission’s eyes were wide, and almost brimming with tears, before she threw her arms around his neck in a very uncharacteristic manner. He could feel the wetness on his shoulder, and gently reached out to place a hand on her back, not mentioning her outburst, knowing how important her pride was to her, how important it was for her to appear to be strong to others. 

When she pulled away, her expression was resolute, and she was smiling, though there was something grim and steely in it. “Sorry. All of this started because T3 and I went to a cantina in town and found my brother’s filthy, no good, manipulative ex-girlfriend. Only she told me Gryff abandoned me on Taris to get rid of me, to seek his fortune. I… I need to find my brother. And I need answers.” 

Cass nodded. “I get that, believe me. I have more questions than I do answers nowadays. If one of us can get closure, that’s really what matters to me. Don’t you think you’ve had a rough enough life?” 

She laughed at that. “I would say Taris wasn’t so bad… But I’ve been… I’ve been thinking lately that maybe it’s not as good as I remember it being.”

Cass glanced over to Bastila, who had turned away from them and was looking out over the desert, before continuing to speak, somewhat touched by Bastila’s discretion. “Few things really are. It can be hard to look at a situation and know whether or not it was a good one, and we always try to make the best of a situation that we can, as people. You’re not wrong for finding joy and comfort on Taris, and you’re not bad for missing it now that it’s gone, even if you recognize it wasn’t a good place.” 

Mission sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right, Flyboy. It’s just… hard. I’m not used to having anyone other than Big Z to talk to.” 

“You have me now, at least. Maybe more people,” Cass said, standing up. “Don’t be afraid to come to me if you need anything. I’m here, no matter what happens.”

Mission grinned at him, and began to walk forward through the desert. “Same here, Flyboy. Friends don’t abandon friends, no matter what.” 

Together, they set back out through the desert. 

* * *

The arrived in Anchorhead after much production, the slaying of a pair of Dewbacks, who Cass quickly realized he could skin to pay for the vaporators. After much production, and being grateful he owned a lightsaber, Cass and company found themselves back in Anchorhead around dusk, not enough time to return to the Sand People.

So they took the vaporators back to the ship, which Cass had bartered for with the man at the Czerka reception desk, Mission and the Droid going inside immediately, though Bastila stayed outside. Cass himself was about ready to sleep, wiped out by sun and sand, wanting nothing more than to slip into his uncomfortable ship bed and hope he didn’t dream about Revan again, but Bastila apparently had other plans. 

Quietly, she tugged him by his sleeve and lead him back to the bench where they had sat the night before, not too far away from the Hawk. 

She seemed hesitant, her face red and dirty from the desert, clearly a bit burnt, but she sank onto the bench nonetheless and finally made eye contact with him. “Why are you… Why are you being so kind to me?” 

The question took him aback, dusk sunlight from the twin suns spilling over them and turning everything brilliant shades of red and purple. Bastila, who that afternoon had looked so formidable and powerful, the woman who had jabbed him in the back with the gaffi stick, looked small and pale in the blue shadows of the near night. 

It reminded him that she was young, and still had all the youthful insecurities of a young person, a person still learning where their place was in the world. 

He didn’t miss that stage of life, but suddenly felt himself overcome by the urge to help her understand why it was he would reach out to her, even if they bickered. Even if she didn’t seem to like him very much or still stared at him when she thought he wasn’t looking with an expression in her eyes profound but still so fearful. In spite of all his confusion and his hurt… He just couldn’t leave someone to suffer when he could help. 

Probably why he’d never been the most successful of smugglers, in spite of all his passes through the Corellian Run.

He was a smuggler with a heart of gold, which made him prone to acts of charity. 

In that regard, maybe he would be a better Jedi than a smuggler, even if he resented the loss of his freedom. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked her, his brow furrowed deeply. 

“I was under the impression that you didn’t like me,” Bastila said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, starting his chest hurting again. 

“Even if that’s true, which it isn’t, that’s still not a reason to abandon you when you’re grieving your father.” 

She snapped her head up to him, looking up at him with her blue eyes again, more grey in the shadow than they had been this morning. Her lip quivered, and her dark hair fell into her face, and against his better judgement, he was forced to admit that she was a very beautiful woman before he let that realization go and focused on simply being there in the moment. 

The Jedi training was, at the very least, useful as a grounding technique. 

“I… I assumed you hated me…” He voice was breathless, almost confused. 

“You’re heavy handed and overly sanctimonious, from time to time, but I always attributed that to your position,” he said with a shrug. “It would be easy to be tense and awkward if you’d had the fate of the entire galaxy foisted onto your shoulders for the last few years. Even I’m starting to feel a bit ornery and I haven’t been at this for nearly as long as you have.” 

“But you’re always so uncomfortable around me!” Bastila objected, as if determined that he  _ should _ hate her. “You…” she stuttered, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “You always draw away when I’m near.”

“Not always,” he pointed out, reminding her of last night with a slight push of his presence against her own. “Besides, I was under the impression I was making you uncomfortable. Sometimes…” She shook his head, tempted to back out of what he was about to say, lest it change everything in their relationship, but stayed the course, pushing forward. “I can feel how afraid of me you are.” 

She stared at him blankly then before a look of quiet regret passed over her expression and she bowed her head. “I… didn’t mean for you to be able to feel that. You’re so powerful in the Force that sometimes I’m… I’m afraid that you’ll drag me toward the Dark Side.” Bastila laughed, a small, broken sound. “Perhaps I should have communicated with you more clearly, but our Bond makes me wary.”

“The Dark Side? You think I…” He ran his hands through his hair, closing his eyes and tilting his head backwards. “Is this because I’ve had so little training? Have you been worried all this time? Kriffing hell, Bastila, you’re right. You should have just…” 

He turned to her fully, spreading his arms, brow furrowed deeply. 

“You should have just talked to me.” 

“I know it’s an irrational fear now,” she admitted. “Which makes it all the worse. I’m a Jedi. I shouldn’t succumb to such things. But here I am, standing beside you, realizing that you are… You are a good man… And that I was wrong about you.” 

“Because I’m a smuggler?”

She hesitated, and he sensed she very much wanted to say something else, that there was another reason she hadn’t trusted him, another reason she had feared him. When she nodded, though, he didn’t have the heart to pursue it, to put her on the spot when she was already so clearly emotionally fragile. 

It had to have taken a lot to come here and… And want to talk to him about this.

It didn’t make it hurt less, though. 

That he had been trusted so little.

That she had apparently thought he was some kind of…

Some kind of monster. 

“Well, we could always start over. No more… No more being afraid. Doesn’t this Bond go both ways? If you’re afraid I’m going to do something wrong you could always… I don’t know, let me know. Try to help me back onto the path of Light.” 

She stared at him with an open expression of shock on his face. “You would let me do that?”

“This Bond means we both share a certain responsibility toward the other. I… I don’t want to compromise this Jedi thing for you. I know it’s… way more important to you than it is to me. I hope you can understand that I’m really only here because my sense of… I don’t know… I just can’t abandon the Galaxy. I  _ have _ to save it.” 

“Do you think you’ll leave the Order after all of this is over?” She turned her head fully toward him, staring up into his face. “I’m quickly realizing what a great Jedi you could be, if you only could learn to let go of your attachments.”

He laughed, not a mocking laugh, but a soft, gentle sort of laugh. It wasn’t chiding, just… amused. He was amused at  _ her, _ at how her faith in him so contradicted her apparent fear that he would drag her toward the Dark Side somehow. 

It didn’t make much sense to him, but maybe it didn’t have to.

Maybe he should learn to be a bit more forgiving of her faults instead of holding her to this impossible standard. She’d probably had that enough in her life from the Jedi. It was easy to imagine Vrook judging her for any display of worldly emotion. 

Like now, when she was a vulnerable young woman who had just found out she’d lost her father. 

“That’s not happening. I’m not ever going to be able to let go of the people I care about,” he offered her a wry smile. “I love too much, too deeply, to ever be a good Jedi. I know myself too well to think I could ever just… let go.” 

“So you really do plan to leave,” said Bastila, sounding shockingly sad, more sad than he thought she’d sound. “Where do you plan to go?”

“I don’t know. I’m… honestly not sure.” 

He took a breath, then looked more fully into her face, deciding to trust her, to be vulnerable, to show her that he was… human. Whatever inhuman quality she saw in him that made her fear his power over her, well, maybe her fears would be assuaged if he opened up to her. 

“I don’t know if I can go back to the way things were,” he admitted, watching her watch him, “but at the same time I can’t imagine myself staying in the Order. I feel like I’m lost under the weight of my own destiny, like my free will doesn’t matter anymore, and that… bothers me. It hurts me.” 

Bastila was quiet for a moment, still looking at him, before she reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, a movement he quickly realized was mirroring his from the night before. He could feel her emotions probe him, quiet and hesitant, and realized that they were different than they had been even the night before.

Now there was a real rapport between them.

A trust.

A real Bond other than the one forged against their will. 

“I want to help you,” Bastila said to him, and he could feel her sincerity blossom through him, soft but burning, the sort of intensity that was paradoxically a comfort. “So please…  _ Trust me _ .”

“I do.” 

She smiled, and he realized quickly that it was probably the first time he had seen her smile in front of him, at least as unguarded as this. To his shock, she had dimples, which for some reason was both surprising and oddly fitting. 

“The journey is far from over. You may discover things about yourself while we are traveling, but I promise, if you ever need my help, I am here for you.” She squeezed his shoulder and sincerity welled within him,  _ her _ sincerity. “I will be here for you as long as we are traveling together. I promised myself that I would… That I would try to help you when we set out from Dantooine. I intend to keep that promise.”

“So if I’m not taking this whole…” He waved his hands in the air vaguely. “It’s your destiny to defeat the Dark Lord thing very well…?” He joked, offering her a small smile, pushing out toward her with his own emotions. 

Bastila’s smile did not falter. “That is exactly why I am on this journey with you, to help you cope with your destiny.” 

Somehow, he felt more like the one meant to help her cope, but didn’t mention it as the shared a companionable silence that dragged on into the night. 


	15. Part Two; Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter that really starts to majorly deviate from the game in terms of what happens. It didn't make sense to have Komad be here when he's essentially a one-off character. 
> 
> So I decided to change what happens in order to emphasize Cass' growing powers more. 
> 
> Expect more frequent updates for a bit.
> 
> It's NaNoWriMo.

“Did you  _ have  _ to bring company?” Cass asked, feeling disturbed at how comfortable he had grown in his own strange dream hallucinations. 

“Do you  _ have  _ to complain about everything?” Revan asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m here to do you a favor, and you thank me by giving me lip. You’re fortunate that  _ I _ am a merciful Lord.” 

“He’s not very grateful, is he?” asked the hulking shape of Malak, tattoos just a bit brighter than they were the last time Cass had seen him in person…. Which was…

Wait. He’d never seen Malak in person.

That was a dream. 

“I suppose not, but he will be eventually,” Revan said with a sigh. “Unfortunately, he’s also a bit bad at taking advice.” Suddenly, the Dark Lord laughed, a resounding sound, smug and booming… It might have even sounded jolly if Cass hadn’t known  how  _ evil _ this man was. “Not that I’m surprised. Little Jaybird is a born rebel.” 

Malak joined him in laughing, placing a hand on Revan’s shoulder, his laugh rasping and more chilling, but intimidating nonetheless.  

“Can you two stop? Kriffing hell. It’s like I’m a walking comedy show,” Cass growled, realizing too late that he was still talking to the twin Dark Lords of the Sith when their eyes flashed amber and obsidian, glaring almost as much as the sky. 

“A tragedy,” Malak said, an almost philosophical tone to his musings. “You’re funny only because your life is so ironically tragic.” The man sighed, and though he was a few inches shorter than Cass, Cass was suddenly aware of how very large Malak was, at least in terms of  _ width _ and sheer  _ mass _ . “In any case, we’re here to help, isn’t that right, Revan?”

“Yes,” Revan agreed, voice much deeper than Malak’s, still modulated behind the mask, still eerie. “We’re here to help. You should know about the Krayt Dragon.”

“Krayt Dragon?” Cass asked. “Bastila’s father was looking for Krayt Dragon Pearls, I thought. You’re telling me there’s a Krayt Dragon guarding the Star Map?”

“There is.” Revan responded. “I’m the one who put it there. I’m only telling you because, again… I want …  _ Revenge _ .” Cass could almost imagine the savage smile the man flashed behind his mask, all teeth, like the very Dragon he described. “As my name would suggest.” 

“We put it there to guard the place against possible usurpers. It’s needful to protect our power,” Malak explained. “I’m sure you understand.”

Cass sighed, running his hand over his face, leaning against the wall of… Yes. They were in a cave. This was certainly that cave, the cave he was  _ so close _ to finding. The cave that very well may be Bastila’s father’s final resting place, all because Revan and Malak had somehow managed to bait a Krayt Dragon to the cave’s entrance. 

“In a way…” Cass admitted. “Yeah. I do understand. Doesn’t make it any easier for me. How the kriff am I supposed to get rid of it?” 

“The Force will provide,” Revan said ominously before he clapped Cass on the shoulder. “You’re stronger in the Force than nearly anyone else is. If you weren’t, we couldn’t be talking right now. I think you know that.” 

Sinking to the ground, Cass looked up at the both of them, staring at the Dark Lords, dressed in deceptively simple clothing, Malak not yet sans jaw. It was strange to think that they used to be… such  _ good _ men. Men who had once given all for the sake of the Republic. 

“What happened to you?” he asked, still staring at him, figuring that if they were going to haunt his mind, the might as well answer his damn questions. “Why did you do any of what you did? I still don’t understand.” 

“Why would you do it?” Revan asked him, and then shrugged. “It had to be done. All of this was necessary. Someday, I have faith you’ll understand. I wouldn’t bother with you if you were anything less than the best and brightest.”

Cass snorted. “How flattering. The favorite of a phantom Dark Lord.”

“You should be flattered. I trust few…” Revan shrugged. “A bit like you, actually. Now... “ The Dark Lord waved his hand. “Wake up, Jaybird. Go and conquer.” 

Cass’ body shuddered, and he found himself jerking forward, the sheets falling down his bare chest to pool at his waist. Sweat clung to his skin, and he raked his fingers slowly through hair, shivering at the cold air of the Ebon Hawk before he hunched over, hanging his head between his knees. 

“Kriffing hell,”he groaned, trying to curb his shivers. “I need a damn ‘fresher. Can’t keep having these dreams.” 

Even as he said it, he knew Revan would continue to haunt him like a ghost…. And maybe that’s what he was. Some kind of fragmentary ghost that had clung to Cass out of a sense of kinship, though how he’d found Cass across an entire Galaxy, he had no idea.

Unless, Cass thought, that fragment had clung to  _ Bastila _ . 

But no.

That entire idea was ridiculous. 

Shaking his head, Cass flung his legs over the edge of the bed only to find he wasn’t alone. Carth was standing in one corner of the room, his brow furrowed deeply as he stared at Cass, arms crossed over his chest. 

Oddly, Cass felt self conscious in front of Carth, crossing his arms over his chest to hide the countless scars that crisscrossed his skin in brutal patterns, some furious young pink, others faded white. He couldn’t remember where half of them had come from, but at this point he didn’t think it actually mattered. Cass had lived a rough life either way, and immediately felt foolish for hiding his skin from a soldier. 

“Need something?” He asked, forcing his hands down to his sides to push himself up from the bed.

Carth looked at him for a moment and then sighed, leaning against the wall. “I just… I just wanted to talk about something with you. In private.” 

Awareness tingled down the back of Cass’ neck, and he stood straighter, brow furrowing deeply. “Just… Let me get on a shirt,” he said, offering Carth what he was sure was an insincere smile. “Then we can talk. This sounds… heavy.” 

Carth didn’t say anything, waiting for Cass to fish his robes out of his storage chest, watching as Cass attached his lightsaber to his utility belt and hastily ran his fingers through his hair in way of brushing them. He’d use the ‘fresher later. Not like they could be on Tatooine  _ that _ much longer… He hoped. 

“What do you need?” Cass asked, sitting down on his bed to pull on his boots. 

“I’m worried,” Carth admitted. “I’m not sure why I’m coming to you. Bastila is technically the leader of this mission, but… I don’t know. It seems like everyone is deferring to you, anyway.” 

Cass might have joked under other circumstances, agreed with Carth, but now didn’t seem like the time or place to do that. He was the leader of this mission, and he just had to accept that. 

“Shoot,” Cass said. “I’m betting everyone is still dragging themselves around the ship and getting ready anyway.” 

“Why… Why didn’t the Jedi Council send a Master with us?” Carth asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to insult you. You already know what I think about, that you’re good at this, but I just… I don’t get it. You’d think with something this important, they’d send someone with more experience.” 

Cass paused for a moment, his brow furrowing as he pushed himself up into a standing position. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder that myself,” he admitted. “They’ve sent us out here without any real support or resources, not that they have many resources to give right now. If you think it’s suspicious, don’t worry… I do, too.”

At those words, Carth seemed to relax, and Cass was reminded that he’d somehow managed to earn this cynical soldier’s trust. They didn’t spend nearly enough time talking. “Glad to see I’m not the only one who thinks this is odd. I brought it up to Bastila and she just told me to trust in the wisdom of the Jedi Council.” Carth didn’t hesitate, rubbing the back of his head before heaving a sigh. “But I’m not a Jedi. Most of us here aren’t. We’re being asked to take a lot on faith.” 

“Suspicious again?” Cass asked, leaning against the wall. 

“Paranoid,” Carth corrected. “Which is probably my fault. I should learn to be more trusting, but I just… can’t. Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.” 

“In this case, I think it’s justified,” Cass admitted. “I… don’t want to alarm you, but I’ve been having dreams. The only reason we know where these… these things are is because I’m…” He rubbed the front of his head, feeling a migraine mounting there. “I’m having dreams about Revan. There’s something the Council isn’t telling us, and it’s starting to get to me.” 

“You’re kidding me,” Carth said, though it wasn’t a question. “Kriffing  _ hell _ .” He paused. “Well, as long as you don’t start acting like Revan, I don’t see much of a problem. I… Uh, I don’t really think you’re likely to act like a malevolent force of Darkness, from what I’ve seen.” 

Cass laughed, walking toward Carth, letting his hand fall on the other man’s shoulder. “Thanks. Coming from you, that’s a pretty big compliment.” He grinned a rogue’s grin, but quickly reigned it in. “Listen, I’m going to try to get to the bottom of this. I don’t trust the Jedi, either, and I technically  _ am _ one, now. You’re not alone in this.” 

“I hate to admit it, because the Sith are the worst thing to happen to the Galaxy since the last Sith attacked, but I’m starting to see why Revan and Malak broke away from the Order,” Carth said, sighing heavily. “If you need anything, I’ve got your back, Cass. You’re… Uh… You’re a good leader. Just don’t leave me on this damn ship all the time.” 

This time, they both grinned, and Cass withdrew his hand. “Next world you can come with us, I promise… Unless Mission and Zaalbar insist on tagging along just because… you know.” 

“I can’t stay on the Hawk forever.” 

“No, you can’t,” Cass agreed, walking toward the door and watching it slide open. “Let’s go. I have some moisture vaporators to haul across the desert and a map to get from a Jawa.” 

“Just a day in the life,” Carth said with a sigh, a bit of humor showing through his usually dour expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone.” 

The rest of the morning was spent wrangling the moisture vaporators, Mission, Bastila, and the HK unit already up and ready to go by the time he finally finished his conversation with Carth. It took them awhile to figure out how to rig something to carry the machines across the desert, but once Cass bribed a dock authority to let them borrow a hovercart, there was no problem setting out for the desert. 

Naturally, desert travel was so dismal that almost no one said anything, not even HK, who seemed preoccupied with something else. Cass decided he would talk to the Droid later, but right now he was just trying to figure out how to take out a damn Krayt Dragon. He didn’t think Bastila had shared this dream with him, with as nervous as she seemed, and how tired she looked, probably sleeping poorly as a result of the news about her father. 

He wished he could do more for her, but right now the Dragon loomed over his thoughts like a dark cloud, one that wasn’t much of a relief in the oppressive desert heat. How did one bait a Dragon to the front of a cave, anyway? He should have asked Revan, Cass thought, watching the derelict Sandcrawler grow slowly closer with every step. 

Revan surely had some method of baiting the Dragon. Food? Did Krayt Dragons eat Banthas? Cass doubted it was safe to try to lead Banthas to a Dragon’s Den in this environment. These Sand People may allow them to get close, but he honestly doubted the other tribes in the area would do the same, and even then, what good did baiting the Dragon do? 

It’s not like Cass had heavy explosives to dent the creature’s thick hide. 

No, there had to be another way. 

He just had no idea what. 

The time to think about it was slowly creeping away from him as the Sandcrawler became little more than a distant speck and the makeshift village of the Sand People came into view. He’d have to tell his companions about the Krayt Dragon eventually, but now was hardly the time, not when a half dozen Sand People were watching them approach with hostility that made the air seem humid in spite of how arid the desert really was. 

When they reached the gates, they were stopped by the guard, who looked between them and the moisture vaporators, made a grumbling noise, and then motioned for them to follow. For the second time in two days, Cass found himself standing in front of the Chieftain, who was already expressing surprise so evident that Cass didn’t even need HK to translate for him. 

“Translation: The beast appears to be both surprised and gratified that you’ve kept your end of the bargain. It’s not what he was expecting, Master.” The Droid looked toward Cass, and for a second, something in those yellow eyes almost seemed pleading. “Please, Master, I implore you. Let us kill them.” 

“We’ll talk about this desire of yours to kill everything later,” Cass said, waving his hand. “Maybe put it to good use. Killing the Sand People could have negative consequences we don’t understand, so it’s out of the question.” He furrowed his brow deeply. “I don’t want to cause a disturbance in the Force. Tell him that I’d like to negotiate the release of different prisoners, and that as long as he honors his end of the bargain and leaves, the vaporators are all his.” 

The Droid sighed heavily, as if burdened by the thought, a long series of screeches and grunts leaving his vocabulator, leaving Cass to freeze in surprise when a pair of small hands reached out to grab the sleeve of his robe. Glancing down and to his right, he wasn’t terrible surprised to find Mission grasping onto him, staring straight ahead with a blank expression her face. 

Gently, he tugged his arm away, watching her eyes snap to him, wide and almost afraid. Chest swelling with brotherly concern, Cass placed his large hand on her shoulder and squeezed it softly, feeling her step closer to him and lean into his touch, searching for comfort that he was more than willing to provide. 

She was about to see her brother again after years on her own. 

Throat growing tight, stomach twisting, Cass didn’t mention the bad feeling he had about this Gryff, waiting, instead, for the Chieftain to respond. 

“Resigned Translation: Master, it seems he’s demanding you take his gaffi stick, as is traditional among his people. They will immediately begin preparing for departure, and gives you his personal permission to take any prisoners contained within the compound. They have very little need for slave labor on the journey,” The Droid explained, his servos whirring as he turned his head toward Cass. “Undignified Begging: Please, Master, let me shoot him. He threatened to kill you if you touch anything in the compound that doesn’t belong to you.” 

“No need, HK,” Cass said, stepping forward as the Chieftain held out the gaffi stick to him, taking it in both hands to pull it away, staring into the face mask for a long moment before stepping back. “I think we’re done here.” 

The Droid didn’t seem happy, but listened to Cass regardless, turning around as the small group of them left the room, Bastila’s eyes trained on Cass’ back. Cass didn’t mind it anymore, knowing now that she was keeping an eye on him, just making sure that neither of them strayed down a path that they couldn’t return from.

Maybe he’d talk to  _ her _ about the Krayt Dragon. 

“Let’s hurry up and get out of here,” Cass said. “Bastila, if you’d do me a favor and take HK to find the Jawas?” 

Bastila nodded. “Of course,” she said. “We’ll meet at the entrance?” 

“We’ll meet at the entrance.” He agreed with a nod, placing his hand on Mission’s shoulder again. “Come on. Let’s go find Gryff.” 

Mission’s eyes searched his face, and then she nodded, sucking in a deep breath, her hands balled into fight fists at her sides. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, let’s go find Gryff.” 

She set out, walking with purpose, and Cass trailed after her, his senses on high alert. There were Sand People all around them, Sand People watched them with cautious, angry eyes that Cass could feel boring into his back, women and children included, and it occurred to him that they were probably some of the only people to be this close to the Raiders without being attacked. 

It didn’t take them long to travel through the relatively straightforward compound, a large, open air circle with walls made of bone and tanned leather -- Bantha, if he had to guess. The homes of the Sand People were on the inside of the circle, and, as it turned out, the pens for their prisoners were built into the outside. 

Cass spotted where they were kept only because the Sand People standing guard outside grunted and moved aside for the both of them, one of them lifting up the flap of leather so that they could step inside the dusty little pen. As it turned out, it was little more than a sand pit with a Twi’lek cowering in one corner, looking up when they entered, the utter look of terror on his face quickly replaced by shock. 

“...Mission?” He asked, pushing himself into a sitting position, lekku twitching, his eyes darting between Cass and the young woman. “What… What are you doing here? How did you find me?” 

The man was dirty and bruised, thin as a wisp, and had large, desperate eyes with just enough of a scheming glint in them that it made Cass nervous for his friend. Without even realizing it, he found himself taking a protective step forward, staring down into the man’s face, feeling a bit guilty at the satisfaction that flashed through him when Gryff flinched. 

“Gryff!” Mission’s voice sounded relieved, but there was an edge of hesitance to it that prompted Cass to glance toward her, look of concern on his face. “How did you end up all the way out here?” 

“I… I was just going to ask… I mean I…” The Twi’lek’s eyes still shifted between Cass and Mission. “I was working for Czerka as a miner but the work was… uh… It wasn’t what I expected.” He cleared his throat. “How are you… How are you alive? We’d all heard Taris was…” 

“I got out because of Cass here,” Mission said, though she seemed reluctant to speak, like speaking would shatter her reality. “Gryff, I have to ask you a question, and I need an answer. Your ex girl, Lena. I tracked her down to a cantina in Anchorhead. She said you’d left me on Taris. That you told her I’d slow you down when she offered to pay to take me away.” 

Cass’ eyes snapped to Gryff’s face, watching the man stumble for words, his mouth opening and closing like a Firaxan Shark gulping for air. The answer was already apparent, to Mission, too, because her eyes were wide and welling with tears before they turned angry in an instant, like a sandstorm blotting out the sun. “Some brother you are,” she snapped. “You have no idea what I went through, Gryff. All those years and she… She was right about you. You’re just a selfish… Just a…” 

Mission gulped down a deep breath, and Gryff tried to open his mouth to speak, but Mission’s heated glare shut him up. “Cass,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, her voice sounding so tense he was afraid she would break any second. “I’m going to find Bastila and wait at the entrance. Do whatever you want with this…. Sleemo.” 

Lekku twitching as she spun, Mission marched away, leaving Cass staring down at the still-tied and bound Twi’lek. The perverse desire to leave him there, like a captured animal, was strong for a moment, but Cass fought it down and loosed the bonds with wave of his hand, watching the man flinch away from him, eyes darting to the saber on Cass’ belt. 

“That’s right, kid,” Cass said. “I’m a Jedi. Which means I’m morally compelled to explain to you that what you did was wrong. Good men don’t leave little girls to fend for themselves in the Lower City of one of the most racist worlds to ever grace the Galaxy with its presence.” 

“You… You have to get her to talk to me… I… I mean I need… I need credits and… And it’s--”

“Shut up.”

To his great surprise, Gryff’s teeth snapped audibly shut and he stared up into Cass’ face, his stricken expression disturbingly satisfying. “Mission is a good kid,” Cass said, “And if you’re lucky, she might forgive you someday, which is more than a schutta like you deserves. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll clean up your life, now get out of here before the Sand People change their minds and decide to keep you here.” Cass paused. “Not that they’d have much use for someone so lazy, I imagine.” 

Saying nothing else, Cass spun on his heel and walked away, not really caring what happened to such a waste of a sentient being. He knew it wasn’t very Jedi-like of him, that everyone deserved a second change, and that it was Mission’s prerogative to someday forgive him, but Cass had never done well when people hurt his friends. 

Later, he’d talk to Mission about this. 

Right now, though… Right now he had Jawas to focus on, a map to find, and a Krayt Dragon to slay.

All in a day’s thankless work, he supposed. 

Cass doubted it could get much worse. 

* * *

Cass really should learn to keep his stupid opinions to himself.

Though the payout from Czerka had been good, Mission had shut herself away with Zalbaar, and when he returned, Carth was arguing with a docking authority about a shipment of small, quickly breeding reptomammals called “Gizka”. Apparently, the Hawk had an infestation, and the docking authority refused to budge -- Even if it had been there clerical error. 

It was because of that that Cass spent his evening arguing with the Tatooine docking authority to no avail, and then hunching over a map so old it was written on flimsi with little creatures croaking and bouncing around his ankles. By the time he had finished deciphering the object, he was so tired that he almost collided with Juhani in the hallway on his way to the barracks, immediately reaching out to steady her, his brow furrowed deeply. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, her hands on his lower arms, looking up into his face with her feline eyes. “You look… unsettled.”

“Tired,” he admitted, pulling away. “Uh… I just realized I haven’t been very accommodating to you. Do you want to… I should probably eat before going to bed,” he smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head, feeling guilty -- realizing just now how preoccupied he’d been. “Join me? We can… Talk. He paused. “I wonder what Gizka taste like?” 

Juhani laughed, a rich sound that put him oddly at ease. “I’ve already eaten, but I would be glad to join you. We have much to discuss and I would still like to thank you sincerely for what you’ve done for me.” 

He was about to tell her not to worry about it, but stopped himself. Instead, he nodded and went to get the sludge that served as their nutrition -- He did have some pocket money from the gaffi stick, but he never knew when he was going to have to buy something actually useful, like medical supplies. Quietly, the two of them went to sit back at the cramped tables, Juhani looking deceptively comfortable, though he could sense her nervousness. 

“So you wanted to thank me?” He asked, staring at the unappetizing grey sludge for a moment before shrugging; he’d eaten worse. 

“You are the only reason I can be here now,” Juhani said with conviction that he didn’t quite expect, leaning forward, her feline eyes intent on his face. “You did not have to speak to me as you did, in the glade, but you did. You could have simply killed me, but you had faith that I could change.” She glanced down at her hands. “I… Felt so lost. I didn’t expect anyone to care.” 

Cass relaxed, leaning back in the seat and stretching his long legs out underneath the table. “My job was to cleanse the glade, not to kill someone who’d fallen to despair. If I’d given up on you, what good would I really have been doing? Besides…” He shrugged. “You were clearly hurting.” 

She stared at him as if he’d just said something impossible, but her face softened in short work, almost looking… shy. “You did not have to.” Juhani said, and sucked in a breath through her sharp teeth, looking back up into his face. “You seem troubled. Please, if you are having a problem… I would like to help.” 

For a moment, Cass was about to tell her it was nothing she could help him with… Until he recalled that she was a Jedi, too, just like Bastila, though only a Padawan like himself. She’d had years of training, and he’d had only a few months. Besides, Juhani was a Jedi Guardian. She might know more about fighting a Krayt Dragon than Bastila would, and Bastila… was going through enough now, with her father and mother. 

“Actually,” he said. “I have a question.” 

Juhani nodded, looking at him, patiently waiting for him to ask. 

Cass, suddenly strangely nervous, sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, overcoming his hesitation. “Right. So I have it on good authority that the Star Map is defended by a Krayt Dragon, one that was baited there by Revan and Malak. Do you… Is there a way to use the Force to… I don’t know… Move or eliminate the Dragon?” 

Juhani blinked at him. “A Krayt Dragon? That is quite… quite a terrifying creature,” she said, and he had no difficulties believing her, with the way she seemed to draw in on herself, browline furrowing. “There are methods of taming beasts using the Force. I have used such methods before, though I am not sure I could subdue such a monster on my own. I would need your assistance.” 

“Me?” Cass asked, setting down his spoon and arching his eyebrows high. “What can I do?” 

“I can teach you the technique,” Juhani explained, spreading her hands. “I know that you are exhausted, but finish eating and we will train. It must be done if you are to subdue the beat tomorrow.” 

He sighed and nodded heavily, shoveling the gruel into his mouth as quickly as he could without making himself sick, her eyes on him. Cass really just wanted to sink into the dark barracks and let himself got to sleep, even if he didn’t want to dream about men with freezing cold presences in dark masks. 

Still, he pushed himself to his feet, feeling his body protest, though he drew strength from The Force to push himself forward. He took in a deep breath, looking around at the Hawk’s clean, dark interior, following her to the large cargo hold, the only place large enough to do any kind of training. The Hawk itself was always cold, and it was calming in this moment, as Juhani sat on the ground and began to speak. 

“I need you to center yourself,” she said. “To control the beast, to persuade it, you must understand its mindset. A Krayt Dragon, though a terrifying predator, is an animal like any other.”

“So what am I doing?” he asked, sitting across from her, crossing his legs and placing his hands, palm up, on his knees. “How do I step into the mindset of a Krayt Dragon?” 

“It is hungry, always searching for food,” Juhani explained. “Predators kill to survive, not because they are wicked and enjoy bloodshed. In nature, unless something has been altered by Sith Sorcery, few things are inherently evil. You learn this, living in harmony with nature on Dantooine.” 

“Hungry…” Cass said, exhaling, handing himself over to the Force the way he had on Taris, when he’d felt himself become one with the speeder. “It’s hungry, it wants a place with a good quarry. It wants shelter. You just have to suggest that this… this isn’t a good place to stay?” 

“Yes,” Juhani purred. “You grasp the theory. Reaching out to the Krayt Dragon’s mind will be more difficult, however. I will teach you the technique.” 

For what seemed like hours they sat there, across from one another, minds brushing together, Force pushing against Force. It was difficult for him to grasp, until she told him that it was similar to what one did with a weak minded individual, in order to rearrange the patterns in their thoughts -- the same sort of suggestion. Still, there was no promise it would work, and by the time they were finished, Cass found he felt as emotionally and mentally exhausted as he felt physically exhausted. 

His exhaustion was so complete that he didn’t notice Mission standing in the doorway to the cargo hold until he pushed himself to his knees, raising his forehead from the cold metal planks, where he had pressed it to try to regain some clarity of mind. She was standing shoeless, looking uncertain, the light armor she usually wore forsake for a loose fitting shirt and a pair of pants, her arms crossed over her chest. 

Wearily, Cass fell back to the ground, and motioned for her to walk toward him, Juhani looking between them before she made Cass promise to bring her on the journey tomorrow and left the room. 

Mission and Cass were left in silence, the only sound fabric rustling as Mission sat beside him, tucking her legs to her chest, staring back toward the door with a blank expression on her young face. 

“This about Gryff?” Cass asked, his own voice surprisingly rough as he reached out an arm to pull her into his side, her head falling against him, face shifting until it was buried in his robes. 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice muffled against the thick fabric. “But I’m not really mad at him. I’m the one who feels like an idiot for trusting him in the first place.” 

“Mission,” he sighed, “how old were you when he left? That had to be years ago already now, right?” He could feel her nod, but she didn’t say anything. “He had a responsibility and he failed. Nothing that happened was your fault. Gryff is just… He’s just a bad egg.”

He was tempted to make a joke, for a half moment, one about her getting all the brains in the family, but refrained. Cass knew it wasn’t the time, in this dark, cold, storage room, with the lights down low, and all her expectations and memories betrayed by a sniveling, swindling con-man with the work ethic of a rancor’s left arm. 

“I’ve always been smart,” she said, her voice cracking on the last syllable. “But it wasn’t good enough, Cass. I hated Lena for years, and she wanted to  _ help _ me. I… I just…” She swallowed, fighting back tears, her body beginning to tremble. “I wanted it all to work out, for once. But it never does. I don’t know what to do, Cass. I don’t know…” 

“Hey,” he said, softening his voice, placing his hand on the top of her head to gently stroke her skin, reassuring. “It’s okay, Mission. I’m not going to tell anyone if you cry. And I’m not going to leave you. We’re in this together, remember?” 

Just like that, the waterworks came, staining his robe. Quietly, he tightened his hold on her, her fingers gripping the thick fabric as she sobbed and hiccupped her way through her grief. Cass understood the sting of betrayal, of being hurt by people he thought he could trust, people who left him behind to pursue their own dreams but destroyed his in the process. It was easy to reach out to her, to hold her until her tears turned into shivers, and her gasps turned into deep breaths that she drew to calm herself. 

“Thanks, Cass,” she said, her voice still lost in the folds of his robes, though considerably more raw than before. “Big Z is a great listener, but sometimes I just need…”

“Someone else?”

She nodded.

“It’s not a problem, Mission.” 

For a moment they were quiet, Mission still leaning against his shoulder, the ship about them quiet, except for the sound of T3 whirring around, running maintenance somewhere in the distance, and the hum of the lights overhead. It was peaceful enough that he almost started to nod off, tired enough to fall asleep on the floor, though Mission moving jolted him awake. 

“We shouldn’t fall asleep on the floor,” she said with a laugh. “Besides, you have to go out into the desert again tomorrow.” She grinned, though it didn’t completely light up her eyes, not like usual. “You’re starting to turn red. Might want to get that checked out… Bro.” 

Cass laughed at that, but inside of his chest, his heart squeezed with emotion. “Get some sleep, you little imp,” he said fondly, shaking his head slowly from side to side. “And make sure to watch the ship while I’m gone. No more gizka.” 

Mission smiled more sincerely, and then saluted him. “Will do. Don’t worry, I have more of a backbone than Carth. I’m used to haggling with Tarisian street vendors.” 

“I trust you,” Cass said as he pushed himself to his feet. “You’ll be fine.” 

Mission’s eyes widened for half a moment before her expression was overtaken by relief. “Thanks, Cass,” she said, and then left the room, presumably out of embarrassment, leaving him looking after her shadow. 

For a moment, he stood in the large room, still listening to the quiet sounds of the ship at night before he finally managed to drag himself off to bed where he collapsed without even removing his boots. 

* * *

Bastila, Carth, Juhani, and Cass set out bright and early the next morning, leaving the ship in the care of Canderous and Mission, who got along relatively well when she forgot he was a Mandalorian.

This early, none of them were very talkative, though there was a spring in Carth’s step simply from being out of the Hawk and moving about. Cass wondered how long he could keep that enthusiasm up when the desert sun blazed down over them and an ocean of sand extended beyond them for miles. 

Thankfully, they weren’t going to get hopelessly lost. Cass’ work on the map last night had more than paid off, and he’d been able to more or less triangulate where they were going using aerial maps of the area he’d pulled from the holonet. The cave was toward the northwest of Anchorhead, surrounded by a sort of Bantha graveyard -- something he wasn’t really looking forward to seeing in person. 

“When we get back, let’s use the money from the gaffi stick to buy some actual food,” Carth said as the gates to the city creaked open. “I think we’ll have earned it by then.”

“Normally I’d argue for the wisdom of conserving our resources,” Cass replied, pulling his hood up over his head to shield himself from the sun, “But in this case? The bounty on that stick was worth more than enough to buy a few hot meals at the right cantina.” 

“I look forward to eating meat again,” Juhani said, though Cass noticed the way her eyes strayed to the morose Bastila, whose focus was solely on moving forward. “There is only so many bowls of that sludge on the ship one can eat before one starts to think fondly of stewed kinrath.” 

Carth and Cass both laughed, and Bastila increased her pace, the four of them lapsing into silence as they trekked their way across the desert. As it turned out, they were walking through the expanse of the dune sea for many hours, stopping only to eat and rehydrate as needed. Eventually, the vast expanse of sand began to give away to rocky cliffs, the ones Cass had seen from above the night before. 

Steps growing more confident, Cass took point, motioning for them to follow him -- Not long now, he thought, and a moment later, it seemed that the bones of the Bantha came into view, bleached as white as sandstone by the sun. 

“Step lightly,” he told his companions, holding up a hand. “There will be another rise of sand past these bones, and then a cave at the bottom of the slope. There’s a Krayt Dragon in that cave--”

“A  _ Krayt _ Dragon?” Bastila hissed. “Cassus--”She took a breath, and he wondered why she didn’t know already, until he remembered that they had to be sleeping at the same time to share dreams. 

“We’ve already discussed a way to deal with it, Bastila,” Juhani said, voice little more than a reassuring pur. “Do not worry. Cassus and I can handle it.” 

She still looked hesitant, and Carth looked downright terrified, but they pushed on. 

The hush through the graveyard was incredible, so quiet that the crunching of boots against dirt felt like a violation of some sort. Cass knew that this was where the Dragon likely disposed of its kills, and something about being here felt chilling, setting all of his senses on edge, keeping him in tune with the Force. 

It was then that he noticed it, the steady throb of the Dark Side pulsing underneath his feet -- cold and oddly seductive. There was a familiarity to it that he remembered from his dreams, the chilling presence of Revan, but even more incredible was the fact that Revan could apparently emit the same sort of darkness as a place thick with the Dark Side. Maybe there was something more to what Carth had said about him than Cass ever could have imagined. 

A crunch suddenly echoed across the empty landscape, traveling up between the two massive cliff faces on either side of them, causing Cass to freeze as he reached out with his senses. Beside him, he could see his companions already doing the same, Carth’s hands hovering above the blasters at his waist, dark eyes narrowed into slits as the sound of crunching grew louder but steadily more rhythmic, a dark shape coming into view at the end of the narrow canyon.

“Kriffing hell,” Carth hissed under his breath, the shape growing more and more clear every moment, a long, low shape with blazing orange eyes and a forked tongue slipping slowly between two halves of a fanged maw as it tasted the air. “You weren’t kidding about the Krayt Dragon.” 

“What’s it doing here?” Bastila asked the air, her hand already gripping the hilt of her saberstaff so tightly her knuckles had turned white. 

“Guarding the Star Map,” Cass said, his heart pounding like thunder in the toxic skies of Malachor V, stilling the moment he felt the Dragon’s eyes slide over him, uncannily intelligent. “Revan and Malak baited it here… Somehow.” 

As if in a trance, Cass found himself stepping forward, a sense of calm overcoming him, vaguely aware of Juhani at his side, her emotions screaming more loudly than her nearly silent steps against the dirt and stone. Probing outward with his senses, Cass’ eyes slipped closed, and he found himself touching the Dragon’s mind, simple the way Juhani said it would be, a predator with a drive to kill to survive. 

There was no malice here, but there was pain, pain Cass knew -- Pain like the way it had felt when Revan stabbed him in the chest, dark and searing, but somehow cold. 

Pushing outward with his emotions, with his senses, Cass let the Dragon feel his mind,  _ his _ intent, a power he didn’t know he had swirling within him. It was strange and nebulous, and Cass suddenly felt much larger than himself, a giant in the skin of a man, as big as the universe and as microscopic as an atom all at once. 

In front of him, he could hear the Dragon hiss and raise up to its full height, like a savage beast ready to strike, but Cass sensed the fear and found himself opening his eyes to step between the great monster and his companions almost without thinking. 

So long with the Dark, so long feeding on the anger it generated, but there had to be something more, there had to be _ freedom _ . 

Both he and the Dragon knew it. 

“Back down,” Cass said, looking behind himself, over his shoulder to find Juhani recovering, reaching out her own hands, pressing forward with her own presence. “You don’t have to do this. You can leave. There are more bountiful places. How long can you depend on Bantha getting stuck in this gorge until they learn to avoid you?” 

The Dragon seemed to understand what he was saying, some of its aggression fading away. Bolstered by Juhani’s support, her presence invigorating and encouraging, Cass took a step toward the Krayt Dragon, watching it watch him with its ever careful orange eyes. 

“Others of your kind stalk the Sand People’s tribes, you know. I read about it somewhere once,” Cass told the Dragon almost conversationally. “And what about mating? Don’t you have a drive to repopulate your species? Why be stuck here?” 

He could feel the Dragon’s aggression completely vanished, placed by a dawning sense of primal realization. There was intelligence in that mind, Cass could feel it, maybe not in the same way the Sand People or the Jawas were intelligent, but enough for him to make an argument with the suggestion of the Force. 

Still, the creature wavered underneath some years long compulsion, one planted into its mind by two Dark Lords far more powerful than Cassus or Juhani were. All Cass could do is push back against that old programming, attempting to penetrate those old defenses, to convince the Krayt Dragon that leaving was in its best interest. 

Later he’d probably break down, but now, he felt only calm as he looked into that massive, black, scaly face, trying to communicate in a language the beast would understand. 

“Please,” Cass said, his voice shuddering with the undercurrents of a power that should terrify him. “I think we both know I’m right.” 

And with a final push from Juhani, the beast swept its eyes lazily over them one last time before lumbering forward, tongue still flicking outward to taste the air. The four of them scrambled aside as the monster passed, the silence of the gorge morphing from one of terrified tension to one of awed disbelief. 

It stayed that way for a long moment, the four of them standing speechless in the gorge before Cass started to laugh, his voice edging on hysteria as his knees grew weak and he collapsed to the ground. He sat there, laughing for a long moment, his voice echoing all around them, his three companions staring at him (rightfully) as if he’d lost his mind… But it felt good. 

It felt  _ right.  _

“I… I’m sorry,” he apologized, barely catching his breath. “I just… I just talked down a Krayt Dragon. I actually… I actually talked down…” He shook his head, hands trembling with adrenaline. “I have to be out of my mind. I’m crazy, aren’t I?” 

Carth was the first to respond, reaching downward to extend his hand toward Cass. “Yeah, you’re pretty crazy. I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out when I’ve known since the moment I met you.” 

Cass took his hand and let himself be pulled to his feet, grasping Carth’s hand in a sign of solidarity before he pulled away, turning toward Juhani. “We did it,” he said, still feeling weak, but this time from relief. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Juhani’s eyes widened, and she glanced toward the side, looking almost bashful, reminding Cass suddenly that she felt indebted to him for what he had done. “I simply taught you the method. You were the one who accomplished the feat.”

“With your help,” Cass replied, turning back toward their destination, though not without an errant glance toward the solemn Bastila, first, concern making his chest ache. “We should get going. We’re not far now, and we might be able to camp in the cave itself tonight if we’re lucky, now that the Dragon’s gone.” 

“I agree,” Bastila said, stepping up beside him, staring into the distance. “There’s no time to waste.” 

Without another word she walked past him, pushing ever forward toward her destination, toward her father’s bones. Cass looked after her for a moment, took a deep breath, and followed her, his footsteps echoing through the canyon. 


	16. Part Two;Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank NaNoWriMo.

It was the first time Cass could ever remember feeling truly chilled by anything he had dreamed about. He’d been terrified before, in pain, but he’d never had such a sense of deja vu, one that made him cold even in the heat of the waning desert day, as he did when he stood on that sandy dune overlooking the little cave. 

He was so stunned, so unsettled, that for a moment the words were robbed from his throat as he numbly walked forward, half-sliding down the slope. If anyone he was with said anything, he didn’t notice, caught up in his own thoughts as he approached the cave as if called toward it by the Force itself. 

It was possible that it was true, he thought as he walked. Maybe the Force wanted him here. Maybe his connection to Revan was stronger than he thought, than he ever could have guessed -- Though why Revan had attached himself to Cass and not Bastila, he’d never know. 

Something he should talk to Bastila about when she was… Better. 

“Is this it?” Carth asked, the first to follow him fearlessly down the slope, his voice shocking Cass from his ruminations. 

“Yeah,” Cass said, glancing toward the other man from the corner of his eye. “It should be safe enough to spend the night here. The Star Map should be in the cave and I don’t think it’s a very…” His feet moved him closer to the yawning mouth of the cave almost of their own volition. “Very deep cave.” 

“Cass?” Carth called after him, but Cass was already moving forward, walking with a new purpose. 

In his mind’s eye he could already see the cave, the textured walls, red as the cliffs they were hewn from, the cliffs of the Jundland. He saw the pale blue light at the end of the tunnel without really seeing it, his steps growing quicker until he burst out into a run, the feeling that he’d been here before almost overwhelming him --

All of it vanished the moment he stood before the Star Map, replaced by a feeling of overwhelming  _ rightness _ . 

He was supposed to be here, and he already knew what to do, or at least  _ some  _ part of him did. 

Reaching out his hand, Cass spread his fingers wide and pushed outward with the Force, letting himself become its conduit, watching the old, claw-like machine unfurl like some alien orchid. From its center bloomed a map of stars, blue, violet and white, casting a kaleidoscope of light on the rusty cave walls. 

Cass scrutinized the map, barely aware when he was joined by the others, seeing how the fragmentary Star Map could lead them to their destination. There wasn’t enough information to compare it to maps of the modern hyperlanes, though, which was why they’d need to find the other pieces. 

“Cass!” 

Just like that, the one word snapped him out of his trance and he turned around to find Bastila staring at him with large, frightened eyes. Slowly, his reality came back to him, and he rubbed the back of his neck, a strange tension lifting from his shoulders. 

“Kriff. I’m sorry, I just…” he motioned to the map. “It’s here. I found it. We should… uh… Take down this data.” 

“Cass?” she asked again, more gently, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He felt himself tense underneath her hand and took a deep, gulping breath. “We can… We can talk about it later. Let’s just… take down this data and search the cave now. Okay?”

They stared at each other for a moment, understanding passing between them, before she nodded and pulled away. It left him feeling guilty -- She was here, looking for her father’s remains, and here she was, trying to comfort  _ him _ after whatever the hell that had been. 

He really coudln’t afford for this to happen again. 

He had to figure out what was happening to him.

And  _ why _ . 

Ignoring everyone else, Cass sat down to start to take down and record the data the Star Map offered, ignoring all outside stimulus. Somewhere around him, Juhani and Carth had to be setting up camp so they could head back in the morning, and Bastila… Bastila was probably combing the cave for her father’s remains. 

It didn’t take him long to finish his task and then mindlessly move onto the next one -- moving to help Carth and Juhani secure the entrance and set watch in case bands of roving Sand People happened upon their camp. They would have to be extremely careful with the fire, lest they smoke themselves out or attract attention. 

No matter what, though, they’d need it for warmth in the cold desert night. 

After camp was set up, Cass quickly realized he had nothing to occupy his hands and that he was dreading falling asleep lest he had another dream about Revan. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, he thought, walking to the mouth of the cave to begin the first of his watches, sitting down on the ground to stare out at the desert twilight. 

Away from Bastila, from the clutter of setting up camp and everything that had be done, Cass gave himself a moment to just  _ feel _ \-- To let the events that had transpired since Taris catch up to him. He had come a long way, from one end of the Galaxy to the other, and somehow, he’d been sucked into a destiny that seemed to weigh upon his shoulders, an incredible onus he didn’t understand. 

The phantom of a man so evil he made the air cold with his hatred was chasing him through dreams, and now the echoes of that man seemed to possess him, memories made tangible. More than that, though, if Cass admitted it… 

It felt like his own memories were growing foggy. 

The more he thought about, the more he realized he couldn’t remember his mother’s face as well as he should be able to, or the way his older brothers had sounded when they laughed. He couldn’t remember what his father’s cooking smelled like, or the feeling of the bed beneath him when he was a boy on Deralia. Everything before Taris, before the Spire, was fading away, replaced with Revan and Malak, flashes of ships in the depths of space and Malachor V burning with a hot, green flame. 

Cass stared off into the distance, looking into the sunset, watching one sun slip over the distant cliffs and then the other as the sands turned from red to silvery blue. For some reason, in that moment, the sunset was the most _ real  _ thing he had ever experienced, so real it made his chest ache with some indescribable emotion, one he could define as neither good or bad. 

He simply… existed. 

“You’ve been out here for an hour,” came a familiar voice only a moment later, the sight of dusk on Tatooine interrupted when a steaming mug of… something was shoved into his face by a very aggressive looking Bastila. “You need to drink something, at least.” 

Without another word, she sank to the ground beside him, setting something carefully in her lap as she joined him in staring sullenly out into the desert night. For a long time, the two of them remained that way, moonlight turning the sand so glittering that it looked like powdery snow.

It reminded him of the snow tipped mountains of Alderaan, though he wasn’t sure when he’d ever been there. 

“I found it,” Bastila said, staring at object in her lap. “There wasn’t much left of my… of my father, but I found his datacron. I can’t… I can’t bear to look at it.” 

Cass didn’t say anything, not at first, taking a long drink of the broth she’d brought him, grateful it was hot in the cold desert night, warming him from the inside out. “You don’t have to,” he told her, breath coming out in a puff of steam. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

He could hear her suck in a breath, and was shocked when she leaned into his shoulder, her body hunched against his side. Cass had been close to her before, but he didn’t think he had ever realized how small she was -- how fragile she seemed -- until this moment. “I don’t know if I should give it to my mother or not. I want to set the past to rest. These last few days I’ve realized... “ She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “You’re a better Jedi than I am.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered. “Being weighted down by something you never bothered to resolve doesn’t make you a bad Jedi. Did the Order tell you that you have to be perfect? Isn’t being a Jedi about slow self improvement and not… I don’t know… Being a perfect person overnight because you memorized a poem?” 

She actually laughed at that. “That’s the difference between us, I think. It’s what makes you a better Jedi. I never bothered to try to resolve this, but when you see something wrong…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, sand he could sense her struggle, the words difficult for her to say. 

How hard was it for her to make herself vulnerable?

How long had she been asked to be perfect and strong?

His heart ached to think about a woman who had always had perfect demanded of her, so much so that she demanded it from herself without exception, that she felt her doubt made her a failure. 

“You fix what’s wrong with yourself,” Bastila said at last. “You see you have a flaw, and you work to improve. I simply pretend it doesn’t exist. I cover it up and bury it underneath layers of anger and pretension.” 

“Really? Because it sounds an awful lot like you’re an acknowledging a flaw right now. And maybe even like you’re working to fix it.” His tone was flippant, but she didn’t draw away, though whether she was seeing warmth or comfort, he still didn’t know.

He didn’t even question their closeness.

Considering their bond, it just seemed natural. 

“Due to your influence, I’m sure,” Bastila said with a wry smile. “I told you I would be the one to help you, but I’m not sure… It seems to me more like you’re the Master and  _ I’m  _ the Padawan.” 

“Aren’t we supposed to help each other?” Cass said, then took another long drink of his broth, letting the warmth seep into his bones. “We’re two Jedi out here, sharing strange visions about the Dark Lord of the Sith on an impossible quest to save the Galaxy. I think relying on a ranking system right now is pointless.” 

“You’re most likely right,” Bastila admitted. “I still feel guilty… And… And foolish. I thought this was some sort of test to see if I were ready to become a Master. Now I know how petty that sounds. This is bigger than I am. It’s bigger than all of us.” 

“When they make everything about you, that’s an understandable mistake. Before you were the Galaxy’s sole hope, the brightest star of the Jedi Order,” he laughed, and the bitterness in his own voice surprised him, so much that he stopped talking completely and stared down at his own hands. “How can they expect any of us to be humble when they make us the center of their Galaxy? The burden’s too much. It would break anyone.” 

She said nothing at first, and then…

“You’re not what I expected.”

“Because I’m a smuggler?”

She shook her head slowly. “I wasn’t expecting you to be such a good man. I… I apologize. I feel like a complete sham, a mockery… I didn’t even really kill Revan.” 

An explosion, somewhere in a dream long ago, fire and pain. 

“It was Malak?” He asked, watching her eyes widen in shock, and then shook his own head, laughing. “You’re not the only one who feels like a sham, Bastila. I’m…. Sorry if I worried you before. I just feel like I’m losing myself to him. To Revan. Every time I dream, Cassus Jaylen slips a bit farther away.” 

“I’m… sorry,” she said softly. “It seems we’re both burdened.” 

“We probably all are,” said Cass with a soft laugh, thinking about Juhani and her struggles, about Carth and his quest for vengeance, and Mission… “In some small way. I wouldn’t feel so bad. Besides, you and I are lucky.” 

She gave him a confused look, enough of a question in and of itself, and more than enough to make him laugh. 

“We have this Bond,” Cass explained. “We can keep each other accountable. Build each other up.” 

Bastila laughed, a soft sound, her warmth on his shoulder reminding him of the sunset. 

Grounding.

Real. 

“Thank you, Cassus,” she said, voice little more than a whisper. “Do you think we could be…”

“Friends?” He asked her, looking down at her and smiling. “I don’t see why not.” 

They didn’t say anything after that, watching the desert together as Cass drank his broth, waiting for the dawn to come. 

* * *

Cass woke with a crick in his neck, rolling his shoulders as he pushed himself upward, looking toward the mouth of the cave, where pale, early morning light could be seen. It was quiet, so quiet that Cass jumped when Juhani placed her hand on his shoulder and pressed a finger to her lips, jerking her head toward the front of the cave.

“I hate to alarm you, but it appears we have company,” she said, her voice low as she whispered in his ear. “There is a group of bounty hunters outside of our cave. They are lead by a man in a blue coat and goggles.” 

Cass froze, glancing toward the still slumbering Carth and the stirring Bastila, who was already looking at him through heavy lidded, groggy blue eyes. “Calo Nord,” he told her. “I thought he was dead. He should have…” Shaking his head, Cass reached out to the Force to shake himself awake. “Come on. Wake up Carth. At least they can’t ambush us now.” 

Bastila was already pulling herself into a sitting position, their eyes meeting before she shook herself completely awake, pale eyes darting toward the cave’s entrance. “Nord?”

“He’s… He worked for Davik. I thought he died on Taris,” Cass said. “Apparently I was wrong.” 

Bastila shook her head, eyes narrowing into slits, her hand automatically falling to the saberstaff at her side. “Do you think Davik survived? And why didn’t they simply come into the cave?”

Cass shook his head as Carth stirred, Juhani explaining what was happening to him in hushed tones. “They might think the Dragon’s still around here. Who knows? Either way, I saw Davik die. No, Nord is here for other reasons.”

The young Jedi Knight sucked in a breath through her teeth and nodded, her eyes still set on the entrance. “I’m… not certain I should leave the cave first. It’s quite possible that he’s here because of Malak.” 

Cass nodded, agreeing. 

They’d met the Sith, and he’d been worried that there had been some way word would get back to Malak that they were on Tatooine because of that confrontation. Perhaps the Sith had a bounty on Bastila’s head, and Nord was here to collect on that bounty.

It would make sense, wouldn’t it?

Especially if Nord had a personal grudge against  _ him _ … Then… 

“I’ll go first,” Cass said, staring intently at the mouth of the cave, reaching out with his senses to try to count the number of people present -- Four, maybe five, besides Nord. “I might as well give him what he wants.” 

Bastila reached out to place a hand on his arm, as if to pull him back, but when their eyes met the hesitance in her gaze seemed to fade away, and she nodded. “We’ll follow behind you, Cassus. Just… Please be careful.” 

He grinned, a wide, easy smile. “I always am, Bastila.” 

Without waiting for her response, placing his hand loosely on the hilt of his saber, Cass strolled toward the cave’s gaping mouth, finding Nord and his goons already waiting. A few of them were lazing about on top of a speeder, and in that speeder was a struggling Jawa, one that Cass suspected was Iziz. 

“Morning, gentleman,” Cass said as he strolled into the open. “Nice of you to come all the way out here to visit us. What’s the occasion?” 

The lazy bandits started to life at the sound of his voice, though Nord was already moving, adjusting his goggles. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this. I’m going to get good money out of killing you.” 

“Me?” Cass asked, arching his eyebrows, placing his free hand on his chest. “I can’t imagine who would want little old me dead.” With a flourish, Cass pulled his saber from his side, igniting it, the violet blade casting a glowing reflection on the sand. “If any of you make it out of this alive, I suggest changing your day job.”

Calo Nord, true to form, wasted no time monologuing, launching into his attack without an ounce of hesitation. His compatriots, however, were a bit slower to follow suit, giving Cass plenty of time to shift his grip on his saber and reflect one of Nord’s blaster bolts back into the chest of a nearby Gand, who crumpled to the ground immediately.

That single movement sent the early morning sands of Tatooine tumbling into chaos as Juhani leapt through the air at another of Nord’s goons, her blue saber igniting just as it sliced the man clean in two. Carth’s blasters followed suit, returning fire as the remaining men with blasters dove behind the speeder for cover and Bastila slipped like a shadow between the combatants to free the Jawa while Cass drove at Nord with a ferocity he scarcely realized he possessed.

Nord might have stood a chance when Cass was a civilian armed with a vibrosword, but now Cass was a Jedi, imbued with the Force, wielding a weapon that cut through nearly all materials. The bounty hunter was hardly wearing Beskar iron, and a once formidable opponent crumbled when Cass yanked him forward with the Force and onto the length of his blade, pulling the weapon back to watch Nord collapse into a pile. 

Taking no chances, Cass pushed his blasters from his hand, turning his head to watch as a blaster bolt hit the final thug in the stomach, effectively ending his life. 

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Carth said, looking toward Nord as Cass turned the man over with his boot, kneeling to search his body for clues. “I was expecting more resistance.” 

“You’re an elite soldier in the presence of three Jedi,” Juhani said, walking toward the speeders, presumably to see if they could be operated. “They were nothing more than simple bounty hunters. Perhaps a threat in the past, but a threat no longer.” 

“You make a compelling argument,” Carth admitted, Cass still rummaging through Nord’s things, his hands fumbling with a holorecorder tucked into the folds of the man’s massive jacket. 

Sitting back on the still-cool sand, 

Cass fiddled with the device, recalling all the times his old freighter had broken down and he’d had to repair it on the fly. He could get this thing to reveal its secrets by working a little bit of his old magic on it, laughing triumphantly when a fuzzy image of a man in the Sith Officer’s uniforms flickered into view. 

“I have a message for you from Lord Malak,” said the voice of the man, probably in his late 50s, a discerning looking gentleman who was unnervingly familiar, and whose voice drew Carth’s attention like a carcass drew Kath Hounds. “You are to bring Bastila Shan in alive, if at all possible. The Dark Lord has need of her. However, you should feel free to brutally murder their ringleader, if at all possible. As has already been explained to you, Lord Malak considers him a personal threat. It is possible this man knows the secrets of our operation. He must be eliminated at all costs.” 

“Ringleader?” Juhani asked at the same time as Carth turned away, storming off to stand away from the group, confirming Cass’ suspicions that this man was likely the man who had destroyed Carth’s home. 

“I think he’s talking about me,” Cass said, glancing over to Carth before looking back toward Juhani. “This… Doesn’t make much sense. Why would I be a threat to his plans? We’ve never even  _ met _ .”

Instinct, though, tugged at the back of Cass’ mind, reminding him that his connection to Revan was growing stronger every day. It was possible that Malak somehow knew about that connection, though Cass had no idea how that would be possible and he doubted he would get an answer anytime soon. 

He’d just have to deal with the fallout and assume that Malak would stop at nothing to kill him. 

“Perhaps he blames you for my disappearance,” Bastila said, the Jawa Iziz already walking over to Juhani, presumably to help her wire the speeder so they could travel the desert more easily. “I certainly wouldn’t be surprised.” 

Cass gave Bastila a long look, and then shrugged. 

“It doesn’t matter. Either way, he’s probably put a price on our heads by now. Any chance of secrecy w had as just gone out the window, doubled because we’re riding in an easily recognizable freighter,.” He paused, and then laughed. “Guess we have our work cut out for us.” 

“We always have,” Carth said, returning to the group, the look on his face still furious. “The odds were stacked against us since the beginning, but…” He sighed heavily, looking tired, old.

“We’ve made progress. We’re one step closer to ending the Sith…for good.” 

“Well, I, personally, wish us all luck,” Cass said, tucking the holorecorder into his robes, knowing that he was destined to obsess over the message for days to come, contemplating its meaning. “Iziz, is that you?” 

The Jawa’s large, globe-like eyes snapped to him. “Iziz help get back to make up for bringing bad men here. Iziz sorry. His clan threatened if he didn’t bring them to dark cave.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Iziz. You didn’t have a choice,” Cass said, watching as the Jawa played with the terminal, sending sparks flying as the speeder roared to life. 

“Iziz help Great Tall One and his friends get back to Anchorhead. Do not worry. Iziz reliable.” The little Jawa scrambled into the back seat, glancing up toward Juhani, who looked undeniably impressed, joining him as Carth slipped into the driver’s seat. Bastila, casting a concerned look at Cass over her shoulder, followed Juhani’s example, leaving Cass to try to cram himself into the passenger’s seat. 

Why were all speeders so  _ small _ ? 

Thankfully, the journey back was a lot faster than the journey toward the cave, and they sped through the small ravine in what seemed a matters of moment, making it back across the desert by the time the sun had reached its highest point in the sky -- Still hours of travel, but not nearly as many. 

By the time they reached the crowded streets of Anchorhead, Cass’ legs were so cramped that he had issues extricating himself from the speeder, and only managed to do so with the help of both Juhani and Carth. It was somewhat embarrassing, but honestly, it could have been worse -- He could have tripped after he finally managed to get out of the speeder. 

“So,” Cass said, trying to lighten the mood, Carth still in his own mind, Bastila clearly mourning, her father’s death likely more real to her than ever. “Who wants that hot meal we promised ourselves yesterday?” 

Juhani immediately perked up. “What I wouldn’t give for hot meat,” she said, almost wistfully. “We could bring it all back to the ship. Does anyone know a good place?” 

“I might,” Cass said, casting his gaze toward Bastila. “I’ll need someone to help me carry the food back. Bastila?” 

She blinked slowly, understanding slowly dawning on her face. “Of course,” she said, walking to his side. “I think I know where you’d like to go, as well. I can accompany you.” 

Cass nodded, and they hailed the ship to ask the group what they’d like, setting out a moment later, Bastila sullen and quiet beside him. 

Not that he particularly blamed her, really. 

They both knew why he had selected this particular place and why he was joining her now, and he could feel her appreciation, even if he could also feel her apprehension. As her friend, though ( _ her friend _ \-- the words still sounded bizarre), he knew he had to support her through this. Bastila was pretty young, and it wasn’t like the Order was teaching self help classes to help young Jedi adjust to the world around them. 

He was the worldly one.

It stood to reason that if she was going to guide him through the finer aspects of being a Jedi, he’d help her navigate the worldly things a young woman her age should know but had never been taught. 

A fair exchange of knowledge, he thought. 

Neither of them said anything, not until they reached the cantina and she looked over her shoulder at him, large eyes almost pleading.

He’d never seen her look so young before. 

“Will you…” Bastila said, swallowing thickly, catching her breath and starting over. “Will you confront her with me?”

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Cass nodded, watched her take a deep breath and walk toward the door, into the Cantina. He trailed after her, shadowing her -- A Wookie sized man in Jedi robes probably more intimidating to some than a Sand Person, in these parts. 

As it turned out, Bastila’s mother was still there, looking somehow older and greyer than she had only a few days ago. When she saw them, her eyes lit up, but she quickly reigned in her reaction, straightening in her chair so that she looked more imposing, though it was easy for Cass to tell how she was suffering from across the room.

He wondered how he hadn’t noticed before. 

“So you’ve come back,” she said, her eyes flickering toward him for only a moment before returning to her daughter. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it. You never did like to do what you were told.”

“With all due respect, mother,” Bastila said, her voice taking on an edge Cass had seldom heard before, “you don’t know me well enough to make that statement.” Before her mother could say anything else, Bastila removed the datacron from her robes, placed it on the table, and pushed it toward her mother, her blue eyes blazing fiercely. “I am a Jedi, and I am not so petty as to abandon a dying woman when… When this is all she has left of her husband. It would be selfish of me. It would violate everything I’ve come to stand for.” 

Her mother looked completely taken aback, her eyes widening almost to the point where she looked like she was about to cry. She cast her eyes over to Cass, who looked toward Bastila, and placed a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I’m going to go get that food, okay? Let me know if you need me.”

Bastila turned her head to look at him, and then nodded, her body relaxing as she pushed her emotions out toward his own and he let her feelings inside. 

Squeezing her shoulder reassuringly, Cass pulled away to mosey over to the bartender, leaning across the long, metal counter to hail the Ithorian there. Quietly, he ordered what everyone had requested, glad his credit chip purse was heavy because of the gaffi stick the Chieftan had given him, and then went to sit in a corner where he could watch Bastila’s body language without being intrusive. 

He couldn’t hear their words, but Bastila’s emotions and expressions spoke loudly enough that they screamed the contents of the conversation to him from across the room. Anger, then shock, then sadness… followed by forgiveness as Bastila embraced her mother and pressed a few errant credit chips into her hands. A few times, she glanced over her shoulder at Cass, who pressed a sense of reassurance toward her, relieved when she walked over to him at last, collapsing into the chair across from him with a numb, yet gratified, look on her face. 

For a moment, she said nothing, then glanced at him shyly and offered him a smile. “Thank you. If it weren’t for your encouragement, I never would have spoken to you. It’s because of you that I was able to… to discover the truth.” She glanced down toward her hands, and slowly shook her head. “My mother and I are more alike than we are different. Perhaps that is why we never got along.” 

“What?” Cass asked jokingly. “Emotionally reserved, prideful, and stubborn as hell? Yeah, I can see that.”

To his immense surprise, and shocked gratification, she laughed. 

“Yes, Cassus, exactly that.” 

He smiled back, nothing sarcastic about it, leaning back in his chair as he decided not to goad her too much. They were friends now -- impossibly -- and they could joke together without too much of a worry over upsetting the other. 

It felt good. 

Great, even. 

“Good to know we’ve come to an understanding,” he said flippantly, and then paused, giving her a serious look. “If you ever… want to talk… You know I’m here, right?” 

Bastila was quiet for a moment, running her fingers through her hair before she offered him another smile. “I do now,” she said with conviction.

Satisfied, not another word passed between them while they waited for the rest of the food in silence. 

* * *

After clean up from their little party, the crew immediately set off for Kashyyyk, leaving Cass with plenty of time to practice his meditation and spar with Juhani, who was more than willing to assist in his training.

As it turned out, she was an incredible combatant, and he wasn’t surprised that her saber burned blue. He ended up on his ass more than a few times while fighting her, but after their first few sessions, and a few well placed bruises on his tailbone, Cass started to be able to stand his own. It was take more work, though, he realized -- He’d need to be able to stand up to Malak someday, and he couldn’t do it as he was. 

No matter how naturally talented he might be, talent alone wasn’t enough to destroy a Dark Lord of the Sith. 

He spent some time tinkering with HK and managed to discover that the Droid had once had an assassination protocol that had been wiped from his memory. Some sort of failsafe having to do with the erasure of memories in the Droid’s system if he fell into enemy hands, that much Cass could tell just by poking around in the Droid’s systems. 

A brilliant system, but frustrating to Cass, who had to deal with the implications of it now. 

Mission, after her night with him in the cargo hold, was slowly improving, and Cass could see her finally reaching out to other members of the crew to rely on them. Not as guardians, she could already take care of herself, but as friends, for when she hadn’t been taught to do something she might have learned from the brother who abandoned her. 

It did him good to see their ragtag team starting to get along better. Even Canderous and Bastila, who were constantly at odds, seemed to have come to a kind of agreement, at least one that involved giving one another plenty of space. 

Carth slowly moved forward, focusing on the mission at hand, but was the only person on the ship who still seemed to be sullen. Cass swore he’d talk to him about it later, after he had time to decompress from Tatooine. The captain seemed to be the sort of person who needed large swaths of time to himself to think over the things he’d been confronted with… Something Cass understood fairly intimately, actually. 

True to form, he did obsess over the holorecording, spending his every space second actively studying the man in the recording as well as his words. Cass just couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew him from somewhere other than the holovids of a decade ago, when he’d been promoted to the position of Admiral. He could almost see the lines of his face, the color of his severe eyes, pale and angry. 

Once more, he found himself wondering if they were his memories, or things that were bleeding over from Revan. 

He had no reason to think they were his, but they felt so… real. 

Nothing was more frustrating than not knowing. 

Cass felt like he was losing his mind. 

It was very possible he was. 

Also true to form, his dreams grew more and more disturbed as they neared Kashyyyk, flashes of dark trees and creatures with gaping maws. He wasn’t foolish enough to mistake them as anything other than visions caused by the Star Forge, and he wasn’t unobservant enough to miss how Zaalbar seemed to grow more anxious with each passing day spent traveling across the Galaxy. 

No one knew what to expect, it was true, except for maybe Zaalbar, who Cass was realizing he knew very little about. It seemed like he was on the precipice of finding out, however, as the dreams grew more and more vivid and his instincts screamed at him to take the Wookie with them. 

Probably a good idea, anyway, just from a practical perspective. 

It was toward the end of their journey that Cass finally slipped back into the same headspace as Revan, finding himself standing in the depths of a forest so old that the branches of the trees blotted out the sun and left him plunged in eternal night. Besides him was Revan, dressed, shockingly, in the robes of a Jedi, leaning against one of the black-barked trees, his face covered by that damn mask, as usual. 

“I don’t think you realize it yet,” Revan began bluntly, about as conversational as he always was, “but I’ve made many sacrifices for the Republic.” 

“Nice to see you, too, buddy,” Cass grumbled, sitting on a fallen tree trunk, covered in dark green moss. “What’s today’s tirade? The injustice of the Mandalorian Wars? How everything you did was necessary?” 

“You know me so well,” Revan said, his tone mocking, more serious than the man on Tatooine, but somehow not as dark; conflicted -- Cass could sense it, someone still not sure about whether or not what he was doing was right. “You’re going to have to start embracing a different approach, you realize. You’re so haphazard, Jaybird. All rhyme, no reason.” 

“I don’t know, I think I’m doing pretty well for myself,” Cass said, looking around the small clearing, his eyes brushing over the giant machine to his left. “The Builders made this, didn’t they?” 

“They’re called the Rakata. The Infinite Empire,” Revan explained. “You can find information about them in the Jedi Archive on Coruscant. Not that I recommend going there. It might not go too well for you.” 

“I don’t want to talk to the Jedi there,” Cass admitted. “I already have enough problems with the Jedi on Dantooine.” He paused. “At least we agree about something.”

“We agree about a lot more than you think,” Revan said, “We both have an incredible sense of justice, and a desire to protect the Republic. The difference is, you refuse to embrace the Darkness as a tool.” 

“So it’s a _ tool _ to you now?” Cass asked, arching his eyebrows. “I thought it was a way of life.”

He could almost see Revan smiling behind that damnable mask again, a savage smirk, yellow eyes glinting with an edge of cruelty. “Did the Jedi tell you that, Cass? The Force is just a tool. It’s your intent that matters -- The means you reach a goal ultimately matter less than the goal itself, even if there are consequences in the process.” 

“What aren’t you willing to sacrifice?” Cass asked, standing up, staring at Revan as if he could glare through the mask and finally meet the man’s eyes.”History said you gave up entire outposts to the Mandalorians--”

“To win other victories. To  _ end the war _ .” Revan hissed, taking a step toward Cass but coming no closer, circling him like a kath hound circling a hapless traveler, giving every impression he was about to strike but was toying with Cass first. “You’ll have to come to understand sooner or later, or Malak will chew you up and spit out your bones. Embrace the strength inside of you. We both know it’s there.” 

Cass was finally losing patience, his careful reign on his emotions slowly slipping away, and he gritted his teeth. “Just why the hell are you so invested in me? I want you out of my head, Revan. I want you gone.” 

“Don’t be absurd,” Revan said with a sigh, freezing in his tracks, one hand on his hip while he pressed the other to his forehead. “You need me. We both know that you wouldn’t be able to find the pieces of the Star Map without me. If you give me up, you lose your usefulness to them -- To your supposed friends, to the Jedi… To  _ Bastila _ .” 

Blood going cold as the winds of Hoth in his veins, Cass nearly reached for the hilt of his saber, stilling himself only at the last moment as he took in a deep breath through his teeth. “Maybe to the Jedi,” he agreed. “But my friends value me for more than my ability to see things from your twisted perspective.” 

“Do they?” Revan asked, and then laughed.

Cass had heard the laugh before, but this time it especially chilled him, echoing through the dead quiet of the forest loud enough to stir the birds at the distant tops of the trees and make unseen creatures dart through the bushes in fear. 

“Do you really, honestly, think they care about you at all? Or do they just care about the things you’ve done for them?” Revan shook his head, his shoulders still shaking with laughter. “I’ll give you this much, Jaybird -- You can trust the Droids.  _ They’ll _ never betray you.” 

“I trust my friends.”

“And that’s your problem right there,” Revan said with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. “You take your situation for granted, your abilities for granted, and the past for granted. But like I’ve said before…” The once and future Dark Lord of the Sith looked out toward the depths of the forest, the visor of his mask glinting in the blue light of the computer terminal. “I have faith in you. I wouldn’t waste my time on you otherwise.” 

Just like that, the dream began to fade, and Cass found himself flung into his bed once more, the world dark and quiet around him. In the darkness, he could hear Canderous snoring, but quickly realized he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep, and dressed in silence, slipping from the room with his newfound Jedi stealth ability. 

Nearly silently, he walked to the cockpit, finding Carth and Bastila were already awake, likely due to years of Military and Jedi training encouraging them to be early risers. Whatever quiet conversation they were having (an anomaly for them, he was sure) quickly ended when he entered the room and they both turned their heads to look at him. 

To his immense gratification, and reluctantly to his own sense of comfort, they both smiled at him as he stepped toward the terminal and looked out the primary porthole into the depths of space. In the distance, Kashyyyk glowed with a halo of light, a brown, green, and blue gem in the inky blackness of the void. 

“By the time the rest of the crew wakes up, we should be landing,” Carth said. “See anything new in your trippy Jedi visions?”

Bastila’s expectant glance in his direction was question enough. 

Keeping his eyes trained on the Wookie homeworld, Cass leaned over the terminal and responded. “Well, my friends, it seems we’ll be heading toward the forest floor. It seems Revan’s been here after all.”

“As if there was ever a doubt,” Carth said. “He fought a few battles here during the last War.”

Cass didn’t acknowledge him immediately, staring still at Kashyyyk and wondering if it leave him with more questions than answers. 


	17. Part Two: Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know roughly how many chapters are left until the Big Scene. 
> 
> Pretty excited to move on from Tatooine. It feels like the story is moving again. :)

Czerka was as inescapable in a Galaxy dominated by the Sith as the sight of their black and red standard, so Cass wasn’t surprised to see them, nor was he particularly surprised that they were so dense, none of them recognized the Ebon Hawk. They were simply allowed to land on the planet, complete with a Wookie, a truly bizarre choice when simple talking to those in their treetop base of operations revealed that many of the local Wookies were being taken as slaves. 

Perhaps they assumed Zaalbar was a slave? 

Not a fun thought. 

As it turned out, it took very little other than a docking fee, paid at Czerka’s main offices, to be be able to leave their ramshackle settlement, something no one in his group could do quickly enough. 

Before long, they were walking across the tree-top paths, something he doubted Czerka had built themselves. Probably a remnant here on “Eadan”, built by the Wookies that Czerka had simply appropriated for their own use… Not that Cass really blamed them, in this case. 

Or he wouldn’t have, had Czerka not been so annoyingly entitled. 

“What can  you tell us about this planet?” Cass asked Zaalbar sometime after they’d killed their third treetop kinrath. “Anything, at this point, is going to be helpful.” 

Zaalbar gave him a long look and then sighed heavily, only speaking when Mission, who had insisted upon being here, took his large pawed hand and squeezed it reassuringly. He looked into her face and sighed before turning his attention back to Cass. 

“To be honest,” he said in Shyriiwook, growling as he glanced down the pathways. “I haven’t been here in a very long time. I was banished by my Tribe for a heinous crime against my people. But I can tell you, from what you’ve said about your vision, that your Map is probably in the Shadowlands.” 

“Shadowlands?” Cass asked, Bastila giving him a strangely poignant look that reminded him she couldn’t understand what Zaalbar was saying. 

“The dangerous depths of the forest beneath the treetops where we live. My people’s warriors go there to prove themselves,” Zaalbar elaborated further, black eyes sliding back over Cass’ face. “You would not be able to descend without the current Chief's permission. Either way, we will have to return to my people. Do not expect a warm welcome with me in your presence.” 

The Wookie said nothing else, walking forward with new purpose, leaving his friends staring after him. Bastila, grasping Cass sleeve, pulled him down to ask for an explanation, and he gave her a quiet one before walking after their friend.

It was true, Cass thought to himself, that he looked different here. Zaalbar looked more comfortable among the trees than he ever had back on Taris, and more than he had in the cramped confines of the Hawk. Mission was the one who looked comically out of place on Kashyyyk, a role reversal from the first time he’d met them in the Cantina on Taris, the small city-bred Twi’lek as foreign to the world around them as Zaalbar had been to a world of permacrete and durasteel. 

Still….

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Cass muttered to Bastila, who nodded in agreement. 

“Some ill is stirring in these treetops and it has nothing to do with the kinrath infestation,” she made a distasteful face, and he could practically feel her shudder her disgust. 

“Don’t like bugs?” he asked with a cheeky grin, striding after their friends, who already had a bit of a head start. 

He pretended not to notice the way her eyes lingered on his back for a moment before she propelled herself into motion. “They’re disgusting,” she said, the look distaste turning to one of outright loathing. “So many legs.” 

“Don’t worry, Bastila,” Cass said, stifling a laugh as he glanced at her over his shoulder . “I’ll protect you.” 

He wouldn’t bring it up to humiliate her further, but Cass was pretty certain she was blushing, and honestly, it was pretty damn endearing. He’d make a point of saying things like that to her more often just to get a reaction. 

Quietly, they made their way across the treetops, making pretty good time until they were stopped by a group of Czerka employees squabbling over the corpse of a Wookie. Immediately, Cass, stepped between Zaalbar and the men, wanting to avoiding drawing attention directly by killing any humans on this pathway -- It was likely the Wookies would be blamed for it, anyway. 

Cass had no desire to bring more grief to the Wookies when they were already being rounded up as slaves. 

“Is there a problem here, gentleman?” Cass asked, interrupting their bickering about what to do with the body, feeling Zaalbar bristle in rage behind him, feeling oddly satisfied when the three of them jumped, staring up at Zaalbar with large, simpering eyes. 

“Er… It’s… It’s this slave… He… He got out of hand,” said the youngest man in the group, quickly shutting up the moment their oldest member cast him a glare and cuffed him on the back of the head. 

“Nothing, stranger. You and your slave should move along. We’re just dealing with damaged goods.” The old man said, rising up to greet them, his face still somewhat stricken because of Cass’ incredible height. 

“Sure you are, sleemo,” Mission muttered, though thankfully the man didn’t seem to hear her, concentrating instead on the massive Jedi Knight standing right in front of him. 

“He’s not my slave, he’s my guide and friend,” Cass said, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes glancing toward their poor victim. “It seems to me that you gentleman are in a spot of trouble, stuck between a rock and a wall, if you will.” 

Zaalbar growled, and the men shrank even further away. 

“Czerka won’t like damaged goods, and I’ll be honest, my friends and I don’t really appreciate you slaughtering innocent people,” Cass looked over his shoulder toward Zaalbar. “It seems you’re completely at the mercy of my friend here.” 

Cass had to admit that the look of abject terror on their faces was far more satisfying than he would have ever guessed it could be. He… felt a bit guilty for that, actually, and quickly quashed the feeling. 

There were better things to feel satisfied about. 

“So what are you going to do, blackmail us?” The old man scoffed. “It’s obvious from looking at you that there’s no way we could win, what with that glorified glow rod on your belt.”

“Zaalbar,” Cass said, ignoring them. “I really don’t want to lead them back to your people, even if you’re at odds. What do you say we drive them off this planet?” 

“Gladly,” the Wookie growled, taking a threatening step toward the men who, for all their hubris while bickering, had turned white as Hoth’s snows. 

“You’re going to kill us?” asked one of the younger men incredulously. 

“No,” Cass said. “You’re going to run, and you’re not going to look back.” He glanced toward Zaalbar. “If you know what’s good for you.”

The men did little more than exchange wary glances before walking past them as if they were about to miss the most important engagement of their lives of the birth of their own child. Cass watched them go, watching Zaalbar relax, though the Wookie still muttered something under his breath. 

“The situation here is worse than I thought,” Bastila said with a heavy sigh. “We’d best hurry. With so many employees of Czerka here and a price surely on our heads, we shouldn’t linger here longer than we need to.” 

“Yeah,” said Mission, already stepping cautiously around the corpse of the fallen Wookie, looking a pale shade of blue than usual. “Let’s get out of here. Come on, Big-Z.” 

Zaalbar seemed reluctant to move for a moment, but then nodded his head. “If we’re heading toward my people’s village, we should tell them about their fallen brother. I doubt they would listen to a Madclaw,” Zaalbar said, growl choking from his mouth, almost like a sob. “But they might listen to you, even if you are an outsider.” 

Cass placed a hand on Zaalbar’s shoulder for a moment, the two of them exchanging a long look, Zaalbar’s eyes searching Cass’ face for a moment before he pulled away, a sigh passing from his mouth. The show of solidarity seemed to be enough to propel them forward, even if it was in utter silence, save for the wild sounds around them. 

This place couldn’t be more different than Tatooine, a different kind of alive. Tatooine had been bright and burning, dry and dusty, but thriving with a pulse of heat and vitality that only existed in places where every bit of life struggled to exist and succeeded in spite of this odds. This place felt dark, wet, and humid, heavy with the secrets of a life that hid itself in bush and brush, little more than blinking eyes in the depths of a dark forest. 

He hated the secrecy.

He wanted to drag the truth out into the open.

Cass always had. 

Before long, they made it to the Wookie village, and Cass knew immediately how hated Zaalbar was the way the guard bristled, how his fur seemed to stand on end as he puffed himself outward. “Madclaw!” he declared, not once looking toward any of Zalbaar’s companions. “Why have you come here?” The wookie held up his massive paw when Zaalbar tried to speak, effectively silencing him. “It doesn’t matter. I’m under orders to bring you to Chief Chuundar, if you were ever to return.” 

“Chief Chuundar?” Zaalbar finally managed to ask, wringing his paws together, “But what of my father?”

“Silence, Madclaw,” the guard growled. “If Chief Chuundar feels fit to answer your questions, he will. And bring your outsider entourage,” the wookie said, as if finally noticing their existence. “They might be useful as witnesses.” 

Mission seemed ready to fight the man, but a paw on her shoulder from Zaalbar quieted her, and together the two of them began to walk into the village. Bastila and Cass exchanged only the briefest of glances before following them through the village, which was a quiet and morose place. Cass immediately sensed the air of hopelessness, could see it in the face of each wookie they passed.

There was fear there, fear and anger… Anger at the presence of outsiders, particularly humans, tinged with fear, as well.

After seeing Czerka’s men standing proudly over the wookie’s corpse, Cass had no doubts as to where their fear stemmed from. 

Wookies made good spice miners, after all. 

After passing through the gloomy wookie village, they found themselves herded into a grand and well-lit hut where a single wookie sat at a long table, attended by men in green and yellow Czerka uniforms. The wookie was small, for his species,with shaggy grey fur and a series of claw marks across his chest and a collection of impressive beads hanging around his neck. 

He looked up when they came and stood, walking toward Zaalbar, who looked down into his face with such an expression of anger there that it made the temperature in the room drop by a few degrees, even with the blazing torchlight. 

“Brother,” said the small wookie, his manner annoying even to Cass, who didn’t quite understand the complete nuance of the wookie language, even if he understood the meaning behind their words. “So you’ve finally returned home, and in spite of your exile.” 

Zaalbar’s eyes slid over the room, and he looked ready to strangle the other wookie -- his brother. “Chuundar, what have you done? What are these men doing here?” It seemed Zaalbar already had an answer in mind. 

“This is not something to be discussed in front of outsiders,” Chuundar announced, his inky eyes sliding over Cassus curiously, yet with a sense of detachment that was unnerving. “Though perhaps they can be of use.” 

The wookie stood as tall as he could and walked over to Cassus, looking up into his eyes, an odd sensation -- Cass could hardly believe he was taller than a wookie, even a small one. “I am Chuundar, Zaalbar’s brother. I doubt he’s told you, but he once attacked me for suggesting an alliance with Czerka for the protection of our people.” He motioned around them. “I am the chieftain of our people, and I have use of you.”

“And what makes you think I’d help you?” Cass asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Don’t play stupid, outsider,” Chuundar said with a growling sigh. “I’ll keep my brother here until you run an errand for me. There’s someone in the Shadowlands who would oppose me, and I need you to kill him… and bring me the hilt of an old blade he carries on his person as proof.” 

“Freyr,” Zaalbar growled. “If you’re selling our people into slavery for our “protection” --”

“You don’t understand,” Chuundar snapped, his fur bristling again as he turned on his brother. “But you will. You will stay here. We have much to discuss. As for your friends… They will end father’s threat for me. For us. For our people.” 

Bastila looked about to say something, but she bit her lip, reaching out to place her hand on Cass’ arm. He could sense her trying to ground herself, her breath coming out in tight, angry, puffs. 

The little Twi’lek had no such qualms.

“You can’t make me leave,” Mission said, her voice sounding chillingly dangerous for someone her size. “Big-Z is my friend, and I’m staying with him, through thick or thin.” 

Chuundar, to his minimal credit, looked amused. “You have a pet Twi’lek, brother? Fine.” He looked toward Bastila and Cass and waved his massive paw. “I could always use further leverage. The girl will stay, too, as a…  _ guest, _ until you bring me Freyr’s hilt.” 

Cass opened his mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when Zaalbar gave him a pleading look, walking forward to place his massive paws on Cass’ shoulders. “Don’t worry about us. I won’t let anything happen to Mission, and I know you’ll find a way out of this. I’ll take care of things here.” 

He bowed his massive, shaggy head, his own fur bristling for a moment, though his dark eyes looked sad. “You’ll find a way. You wouldn’t be the man I swore a life debt to otherwise.” 

Nodding reluctantly, Cass backed away, taking a deep breath as he motioned to Bastila to follow. She trailed after him wordlessly, her face grim, her blue eyes hard and angry. Funny that his words to the Czerka officials about being stuck between a rock and a wall would turn out to bite him in the ass. 

Refusing to think about the way Mission’s eyes felt on his back as he left the room, Cass and Bastila walked through the village of grim wookies to find their way to the shadowlands. 

* * *

“--Sure you don’t want backup?” Carth asked as Cass sat on a metal supply barrell, watching Bastila pace across the pale planks of pine that made the pathways of Kashyyyk’s forest highways.

“It’s a waste of time to trek all the way back just to get help. Besides, I’m, not sure Chuundar hasn’t relayed our arrival here to his Czerka allies. I need people I can rely no at the ship, Carth, in case the Sith pick up on our trail. That means you.”

Carth sighed, the small image of the man pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. In the background, Cass could hear Canderous shouting something indistinct, though Carth’s response made it clear what he had said. “No, there’s no need. Apparently our fearless leaders are going to take on an entire ancient forest on their own.”

“You out of your mind?” Canderous said as he stepped into sight, Carth wrinkling his nose in distaste. “I’ve been on this planet. There are things down there that could eat Bastila in one bite.”

“It would probably take them at least two to eat me,” Cass said flippantly, Canderous laughing, though the good Captain seemed to think the joke was distasteful. 

“Could you at least  _ try _ to take this seriously?”

“I am taking this seriously,” Cass replied, sighing heavily, his attempts at levity going over Carth’s head, as usual. “I already told you -- You need to make sure Czerka doesn’t search the ship. Bastila and I will deal with the shadowlands. We’ll be fine.” 

Carth sighed heavily, a habit of his, and then nodded. “If you need backup -- call.”

“I don’t know that Chuundar will let anyone other than the people he saw down into the shadowlands, Carth,” Cass admitted. “But if there’s something you can do from the Hawk, we’ll let you know.” He turned his attention to Canderous. “If those bastards come after the ship, you have my permission to enthusiastically do whatever it takes to drive them off. I don’t take kindly to slavers.”

Canderous grinned. “Roger that. We’ll see if these cowards are capable of dying with honor if it comes to that.” 

And with that, the holocall ended, leaving Cass and Bastila completely alone. 

“You have a way with people,” Bastila said as he fell into step beside her, the two of them setting off toward the large, pulley controlled elevator they had seen a wookie guard watching over earlier. 

“Do I?” Cass asked, glancing at her, hand on the hilt of his saber, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. 

“Not everyone could rally such a diverse group of misfits to them.”

“Funny, I was under the impression that we were all here out of obligation, not because we liked each other,” Cass said, nearly laughing to himself at the idea of him having any kind of charisma or staying power whatsoever -- some outer rim nothing with farmer parents. 

“We don’t like each other,” Bastila said, voice momentarily dipping into familiar levels of exasperation. “That’s my point, in fact. We dislike each other, but would follow you nearly anywhere.” 

He paused at that, staring at her blankly before he shook his head, trying to shake off the sick feeling of unease that slithered through his stomach like a crater worm and got caught in his throat. It was obvious, the way she looked guilty almost immediately after speaking, that she had figured out how much what she’d just said had bothered him, reaching out hesitantly to place her hand on her arm again. 

“Just because you have things in common with him doesn’t mean you’re remotely the same person,” Bastila said seriously, her blue eyes piercing in a different way than usual, making him feel naked… embarassed. “I stood in Revan’s presence. He radiated hate, so cold that it stole the breath from your lungs. No matter what else you have in common with him, you are nothing like that.” 

Cass searched her face, his gut still twisting, though it quickly dawned on him that it was for a different reason than before. Bastila, with her wild, flyaway dark hair tamed into a million restraints, with her olive toned skin and her bright blue eyes, with her quiet sense of reassuring strength, the way she treated him as equal… The way her lips parted, and her small, strong, calloused hand felt on his arm...

_ Living Force _ ,  **_kriffing hell,_ ** he should not be having these kinds of thoughts.

Not about her. 

**No.**

Taking a deep breath, Cass turned away, running his fingers through his own thick hair, suddenly feeling stupidly self-conscious about his own appearance. 

He’d already determined nothing was going to happen in the half second it took him to realize he found her attractive -- there was no rule saying you had to date your friends -- but it didn’t mean he couldn’t feel foolish and awkward about being a slightly balding man in his late thirties in front of her. 

“Thank you,” he said, swallowing past the lump in his throat and gaining control of himself. “And how are you doing? With all of this? I know that it’s a lot to take in…And in a short time. It seems like we haven’t had much of a moment to breathe, even in transit.” 

“I’ll cope,” Bastila said, backing away, giving him a bemused look; he wondered, vaguely, if she could read his feelings, but pushed the thought away. “However, once we get off of this planet, I’d prefer if we could take a brief tour to Dantooine. I think we could all use the rest.” 

Cass nodded his agreement. “Good idea.” He said, walking toward the distant wookie, who he could see coming into view. “I know I need to sleep for a week…  _ Without _ a Sith Lord or two haunting my dreams. Just once.”

The two of them didn’t say anything after that, at least not for quite awhile. 

There was nothing else to really talk about, their mission consuming their minds, though probably in different ways. He couldn’t know for sure what she was thinking about, not really, but he did know that he was concerned with finding a loophole to this Freyr situation. Chuundar was working with Czerka, selling the wookies into slavery, his own people, presumably out of some sort of misguided sense of justice.

It reminded Cass of Revan, of the man willing to sacrifice cities or worlds for the sake of securing victories. The sad thing was, he thought maybe even Revan might have been against this particular sacrifice… Somehow he couldn’t see Revan agreeing with forced loyalty, not when Bastila was right. 

Revan had been charismatic. He’d won people over by making promises… and then following through on them. Clearly people had been selling these wookies into slavery before, but Cass had the impression that it had been pirates, in the past. 

If Revan won people over by winning their loyalty, there was no way he could have ever condoned anything that might leave someone willing to kill him in the future. 

Cass shuddered, thinking about just how well he was staring to know Revan before pushing the thoughts from his mind. 

He and Bastila didn’t speak again until the wordless wookie started to lower the elevator into the dark, dread shadowlands, and when they did, their conversation meandered. What had it been like for her growing up? Had she ever been there to listen to the Revanchist’s speeches? How old was she when the Mandalorian Wars ended and what sort of impact had they had on her? 

She asked him questions, too, better questions than the one’s she’d asked on Dantooine. They weren’t things she could find in his dossier. Instead, they were questions about his experiences and preferences, questions about the sort of person he’d been before he’d ended up on Taris. Sometimes, he felt guilty, knowing he wasn’t as noble as she expected, but she always seemed pleasantly surprised rather than disappointed. 

“What was that you told me once? That you were a rogue with a heart of gold?” She asked as the ground finally came into view. “I’m starting to believe it.” 

Cass snorted. “I was joking,” he said. “I actually don’t have a very high opinion of myself. That’s my dirty little secret, you know. I mean… I have all this potential, apparently, and I used to be a smuggler. Spice from one side of the Galaxy to another. Blasters to the Republic during the war.” 

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” Bastila asked. “In any case, I have the opposite problem. I think too highly of myself. I often wonder if the Jedi meant for me to destroy Malak. I’ve dwelled on it many times, and have even considered whether or not it’s my destiny.” 

She smiled at him, another soft expression, one that made him all the more fond of her in the way men grew fond of women they fancied. 

“Perhaps we balance one another. You could use a boost in self confidence, and I could use even a fragment of your humility.” 

“A real dream team,” he said dryly, and then laughed. “The Jedi Order doesn’t know how lucky they really are that we have a Force Bond. They could have ended up with complete hacks. What would they have done then?” 

She laughed, too, and it did him good to know he could make her genuinely smile. No furious and embarrassed blushing, as funny as that was, just her, relaxed around him.

He really needed more friends.

No more followers.

_ Friends.  _

Finally, they touched ground, and Cass was immediately reminded of his dreams, the chilling, writhing life of the shadowlands. The sense of deja vu was overwhelming, more so than what he’d felt on Tatooine, staring down at the cave, but he was relieved to find that there was no trance, this time… Just a sense of unease ironically born of familiarity. 

“Come on,” he said, speaking more softly than he had only a moment ago while standing on the elevator. “And step lightly. Worse things than old wookies stalk these woods.” 

He could feel her eyes linger on his back for a long moment before they both pushed forward through the darkness of the shadowlands, which Cass was realizing were aptly named. It had been morning in the treetop world, and here it was night, the trees as tall as Taris’ skyscrapers, black barked, mangled, and organic. Small creatures always ran a few paces in front of them, long tails twitching as they darted amongst the trunks, as if taunting Cass and Bastila. 

The entire place was permeated by a faint Dark Side trace, as if grown from it until the entire organic structure of the world had become strange and twisted. 

It left him disquieted. 

Neither of them said anything for what seemed like hours, time becoming meaningless in such a dark and ancient place until the sound of combat sent them both shooting off through the brush at a sprint. It was difficult to move in such thick foliage, as even the few paths were twisted and overgrown with brush, but they managed to break through into a clearing where flashes of green and sparks of white cut through the shadows of the darkened forest like a high beam. 

Cass almost immediately recognized the sight, and even if he hadn’t, the low pitched humming that filled the clearing would have given away the weapon in an instant. A weapon that belonged to a dark skinned old man in Jedi’s robes surrounded by a group of savage beasts the likes of which Cass had never seen before, though he had to admit they reminded him a bit of kath hounds. 

Just as Cass was about to ignore his own saber, he felt a pulse of energy through the Force, one that sent all the beasts to their knees with a screech. The ones that didn’t crumple further to the ground slinked off through the trees as though they were wounded, limping into the eternal darkness. 

For a moment, the old man, his hair starkly white in the dim forest world, stood in place panting. Then, his eyes slid over toward the two Jedi, who still stood in place, staring back at him with expressions of silent awe surely etched into their faces. 

“Let me guess,” the old man said in his gravelly voice. “You’re here for that damn ancient alien machine.” 

Bastila caught and held his gaze for a moment before they both looked back toward the old man, whose saber was now hanging harmlessly at his side, arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

“How did you know?” Cass asked, only to have the man laugh in his face, sound punctuated by a dismissive snort. 

“What else would the Jedi come here for?” The old man arched his bushy eyebrows. “You’re not here to help the locals. That’s not important enough to impact the fate of the Galaxy, or something equally grandiose and self-important, I’m sure.” He sighed, and held up his hand before Cass could say anything else. “Listen, I’m sure you young people would be perfectly content to sit around out here in the dangerous wilds and talk all night, but us old timers have a bit more sense than that.” 

Cass opened and closed his mouth, sensing somehow that the man had more to say, though he sorely wanted to respond. Bastila seemed equally hesitant to speak, her dark brow furrowing deeply as she looked at the man, a slight flicker of recognition traveling across her features. 

The old man sighed, and looked off into the distance, into the thick of the forest. “Well, come on. We don’t have time to waste. I have information you might need, so you might as well hear me out.” 

Bastila and Cass exchanged another glance, understanding passing between them, before Cass shrugged. 

“Why not?” 

A glimmer of amusement passed over the old man’s features. “I hope you’re not this suggestible when it comes to  _ other _ total strangers,” he said, “otherwise the Galaxy is completely doomed.” 

And with that cryptic remark, he set off through the darkness, leaving Cass and Bastila no choice but to follow him. 

* * *

The old hermit lived in a little hut carved out of the root of one of the ancient trees, lit from glowing stones that Cass suspected had either been stolen from Czerka or were powered by the Force. In the light of the ramshackle building, it was apparent just how old the man really was, his face carelined by sun and wind, his robes so threadbare that Cass could see where they had been patched with pieces of what appeared to be tanned leather.

The only part of this man that betrayed his sharp mind, besides his clever tongue, where his dark and intelligent eyes. 

Otherwise, he looked exactly the part of a half-mad hermit. 

Bastila watched him, something Cass couldn’t help but notice, nursing the cup of disgusting bark-flavored tea he’d given them, though Cass had to admit… As foul as it was, it did feel good to drink something hot, for once. Even if they were only drinking it because they man insisted that they do, something Cass was fairly certain was just some sort of elaborate prank at this point. 

Not that he minded.

If it was, he was actually appreciative of the old man’s sense of humor. 

“So,” Cass began, sitting with his legs crossed underneath him. “You said you had vital information?” 

“I do,” the old man said. “But you’re awfully rude, jumping right into this without even introducing yourself. I’m Jolee Bindo, by the way. Lived here for years.” 

“Cassus Jaylen,” he said, and then glanced to Bastila, waiting for her to introduce herself. 

“Bastila Shan. As you’ve already guessed, we’re on a mission from the Jedi Council,” she said, placing her nearly untouched mug on the ground beside her and lacing her fingers together in her lap. 

“Something about stopping the Sith, right?” the old Jedi named Bindo asked. “I can help you get to your machine, but you have to do a favor for me first… Two, actually. You won’t be able to get past Czerka’s traps without me, after all.” 

Cass nodded. “I can understand entering into a mutually beneficial arrangement,” he said, thinking how grateful he was that it would solve at least one of his problems, even if it didn’t deal with Freyr. “Name your terms.” 

Bindo arched his eyebrows high. “Pretty practical fellow, aren’t you? Can’t say I’m surprised. You seemed like the sort. Not quite like your friend here,” the old man said as he glanced to Bastila. “No offense, but you remind me a lot of some of the Jedi I used to know. Well intentioned, but definitely with a stick up your ass.” 

She snorted. 

“No offense taken. You seem just like every overly rebellious old Master I’ve ever been warned about.” 

The man snorted again, a habit of his that Cass was just starting to get used to. “That’s because I am,” he said as he turned his attention back to Cass. “I need you to do two things for me. First of all, I have some poachers that I need you to get rid of… Peacefully, if possible.” Bindo held up a finger, then held up a second. “Then, I need you to take me off this planet when you leave.”

“Any particular reason for that second one?” Cass asked. 

The old man’s blank look was almost enough to make Cass laugh -- as if his reason for wanting to leave Kashyyyk was the most obvious thing in the entire world. “When you’ve spent several decades on the same planet, you tell me you don’t want to leave. There are only so many times you can look at the same trees before they stop being interesting.”  

Cass nodded. “Fine. You want us to deal with your poachers, and then take you off of the planet when we leave.” He glanced toward Bastila, who nodded subtly at him, holding her cup again, probably just to warm her hands. “I think we can manage that.” 

“Good to see you’re going to be smart,” Bindo said, smiling almost wickedly. “I was almost worried for the youth of today, with how disrespectful and thoughtless you were before, letting an old man fight his battles on his own.” 

“I think we both know you’re not an average old man… Bindo,” Cass said, thinking better of using an honorific with a man who patched his own tunic and made tea from tree bark; something told him he wouldn’t like the title. “But I’ll make sure to respect my elders in the future.” 

The old man looked at him for a long moment after that, and then laughed. “Like hell you will! We both know that you’ll never respect your elders. I can already tell you’re the sort of person with big ideas who won’t listen to advice that you think isn’t worth your time.” 

“Then give me worthwhile advice,” Cass said almost without thinking, nearly clapping his own hand over his mouth after he spoke the words. 

Bindo simply grinned. 

“Where are these poachers of yours?” Bastila asked. “I think we can find your home again, easily enough. It is fairly distinct,” she said, setting her mug down again and placing her hands on her knees, her own demeanour far more respectful than his own. “However, finding our way there may be difficult.” 

“You think I’d leave you up a creek without a paddle?” Bindo asked, and then shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Or in this case, out in that ocean of trees without good directions? I’m old, not cruel.” 

He sighed when neither of them immediately responded and waved his lined and calloused hand, continuing to speak. “You go up from here two hundred paces,” he looked to Cass with his sharp, dark eyes, “two hundred of the lady’s paces, wookie legs.” 

Audibly sighing, Cass was tempted to spread out his “wookie legs” to make the small hut even more inconveniently cramped out of spite, and because his legs were stiff, but he stopped himself. Instead, he waited for Bindo to continue to speak, suspecting the man would be absolutely ruthless on calling him out if he were to insult him in his own home, something Cass had really no interest in.

As amusing as Bindo was, they were still short on time, and this was still a large detour… One they had no choice but to take. Cass was fairly sure Bindo was telling the truth about whatever obstacles they were going to face… As if Czerka wouldn’t protect the deep woods if there wasn’t some strange alien technology they wanted to discover. 

Perhaps Revan or Malak had even suggested they guard the deep woods.

No, he certainly wouldn’t put it past them. 

“After you go up, go left another four hundred paces, pause, turn right four steps, and then go up for one hundred paces. You should find your poachers,” Bindo was explaining when Cass came back to the present. “I should warn you, they work for Czerka. After the tach, I suspect. There’s probably something about the animal they think they can exploit.”

“Tach?” Bastila asked. 

“The little brush primates. Annoying little buggers, generally harmless. There are kinrath deeper into the woods, but we won’t have to worry about those until later.” He looked toward the door, then his eyes slid back toward Cass, who suddenly had the impression that Bindo was saying this particularly for his benefit… 

That maybe this entire thing was to test him, though Cass couldn’t imagine  _ why _ . 

“Remember, I went them dealt with non violently. No killing them, whippersnapper, you hear?”

Was there a reason to test him? To test his intentions?

Cass glanced to Bastila, but for once she wasn’t looking back at him, and that thought alone somehow made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

“I had no plans to kill them,” Cass said, taking a deep breath and pushing thoughts of Revan away, this idea that Revan might be the one testing him, somehow, even from beyond the grave. “But I’ll make sure to tell you I’m going to follow your instructions anyway, if it will make you feel better.”

For a moment, Bindo stared right through him, his dark eyes more cutting than anything Cass had ever experienced. If he’d wanted to, he could have fooled the Jedi on the Council, so willing were they to believe in some grand destiny, but Bindo was looking for what was actually there, not what he wanted to see.

It made Cass feel frightened, not of what Bindo would find… 

But what he might  _ not  _ find. 

“This isn’t about making me feel better,” Bindo said, standing, “it’s about satiating my curiosity. But I think you knew that already. Now…” he motioned toward the door. “You kids get out and don’t come back until you’ve dealt with my poachers. I’ll be watching the forest, so I’ll know when you’ve finished.” 

The truth of those words rang clear long after they’d left the bright little hut and been welcomed backed by the omnipresent, living, writhing forest of Kashyyyk.  


	18. Part Two; Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone!
> 
> With much love, 
> 
> OoR

Jolee’s instructions, even measured in paces, turned out to be perfect instructions and just about what Cass would expect from a man who had lived in this forest for who knew how long. They emerged into the largest clearing they’d seen so far, occupied by a group of men who wore Czerka uniforms, their leader a square faced grey man with dark eyes who glowered at them the moment they broke through the trees. 

“It seems unlikely that you’re tourists,” the man said, his clever eyes falling to their belts before flickering back to their faces. “But even less likely that you’re mercenaries. What are you doing out here?” 

“We are searching for something,” Bastila said, glancing over her shoulder up into Cass’ face before nodding and taking a step forward. 

“The Jedi, sending someone to search for something on this useless backwater?” The man drawled. “Well, I suppose, if you have to pass through the area, you might as well. You’re not likely to find anything of interest, though, I warn you. I imagine we’re the only ones to find anything of value in this forest.” 

“And what could that be?” Bastila asked as Cass slipped away to talk quietly to one of the other poachers in the area. 

Keeping himself attuned to the other conversation, listening to the man prattle off something about the value of Tach glands, Cass approached one of the workers, who looked supremely uncomfortable in the forest. 

Honestly, Cass couldn’t blame him. 

This deep below the canopy of the kilometers tall trees everything was dark and eerie, and the forest around them moved like it was sick. The more time he spent here, the more Cass was starting to realize it might be attuned to the Dark Side, moving with the same sluggish certainty, the same melodic, tempting heartbeat, noticeable enough that it might even have an effect on non-Sensitives. 

Now wasn’t the time to focus on that, though. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, already aware that the man he was speaking to, who had to be in his early twenties at most, was staring up at him like he was intimidating, Cass relaxed his face into a smile, watching as the young man relaxed in response, staring up into his face. 

“Need something, stranger?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck before he looked warily at the sensor beside him, and then into the dark trees. 

“I’m wondering about this sensor,” Cass said, motioning toward the device, then glancing toward the others set up in this small clearing. “What does it do?” 

The young man blinked slowly, and Cass realized that probably wasn’t what he had expected to be asked, especially considering the way Cass was dressed -- Brown robes, lightsaber in the open, his hair shaggy, beard grown from the loose, patchy fare, to an even, dark cover. 

Kriffing hell, he probably did actually look like a Jedi. 

Right.

He  _ was _ a Jedi. 

“Er… It’s a beacon, Master, uh, Jedi, sir. It transmits at a beacon at a frequency too high for most near-human species to hear, but it keeps the predators away,” the young man placed his hand against the sensor and offered Cass an uneasy smile. “Only thing between us and rows of teeth and razor claws.” 

Cass reached up and absently stroked his beard, something in the back of his mind wondering what had happened to the mostly clean-shaven smuggler he’d been on Taris, before he nodded. “And you’re out here hunting some of the local wildlife? Seems to be an inhospitable job. Not that I’m not used to it, mind you. I was a smuggler before I was a Jedi. You take some bad jobs. Still…” He trailed off, seeing curiosity flare in the young man’s eyes. 

“Still, Master Jedi?” 

“It seems to me Czerka should send their employees on jobs more favorable than this one. I’ll admit I don’t know that much about the company’s inner workings, but even the miners they pay on Tatooine get a droid escort to their location.” Cass shrugged, looking off into the dark depths of the forest. “I’m only here because I have to be, but you… You could probably get a better station.” 

For a moment it looked like the young man would protest, and Cass wondered if he would have to backtrack -- if he had been too hasty -- but his expression carefully smoothed over, and he nodded. “You’re… You’re right. I’m only here because the commander wants to make a personal profit on the side. The company wouldn’t approve of this.”  

He glanced toward the beacon, and Cass suddenly had the impression that the young man was a lot smarter than he’d been giving him credit for. “I’ll leave,” he said after a moment simply staring at the beacon. “But whatever you’re planning to do, Master Jedi, you should do it quickly. The Commander wouldn’t be distracted for long.” 

Cass glanced back over his shoulder and looked at Bastila, who was red faced as she argued with the man. For a moment, she caught his eye, and then nodded briefly -- He could sense her annoyance, but he knew why she acted the way she did. Bastila was trying to buy him time. 

Working quickly, Cass approached two more of the crewmen, the two most likely to defect -- a very tired looking man likely not much older than Cass, and an old man who kept shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. In quick work, he picked up on their desires, one to return home and the other to retire in peace, and quickly set about turning off the beacons, which were not particularly complicated machines with a very simple interface. 

The ‘conversation’ Bastila was having with the Commander had mounted to the level of tension that Cass could feel in the air about him, exacerbated by the subtle nature of the Darkness in the forest. It was cut short only when growling filled the clearing and the Commander froze, staring into the darkness -- If he was going to respond to whatever Bastila had said, or retaliate as he surely realized Cass had disabled the sensors, he didn’t. Hissing through his teeth, he shook his head, gave the both of them a furious look, and then motioned for his remaining men to follow him back towards the surface. 

“We’d best hurry,” Bastila said quietly, turning toward him. “I do not suspect we have long before those creatures converge on our location.” 

Cass didn’t say anything to her, simply nodding as they set off in the direction they had come from, Bindo’s directions still proving true. Before long, they were converging on his little hut, nestled carefully underneath a mangled root, bugs flitting through the light above his door step. 

The man in question was sitting on what appeared to be the branches of one of the mighty trees, carved into the shape of his stool, his dark eyes rising to greet them as they walked from the brush into the small clearing in front of his home. “Back already? I didn’t sense any disturbance in the Force, so you must not have killed the idiot poachers stupid enough to come down here.” 

Slowly, deliberately, the old man stood, gaze once again falling solely on Cass, the focus of his strange attentions. “Can’t say that’s what I expected from you.” 

“You asked me not to kill them,” Cass said, something about Bindo bringing out his most impulsive, ill-thought-out responses. “It didn’t seem like it was a wise idea to waltz into a clearing of heavily armed men and mow them down for getting sucked into some idiot officer’s get rich quick scheme.” 

Bind snorted. “A good enough reason, but we don’t have time to wait here. If you want to get to your relic and do whatever the Wookies sent you down here for, we’d better hurry. Time’s hard to tell in these woods, and it’s pretty much always dangerous, but I’m willing to be your mission is time-sensitive.” 

Cass opened and closed his mouth, but sighed, glancing toward Bastila, who wasn’t looking at him at the moment. “You’re right. We can’t waste too much time here. I’m sure Malak has already heard what we’re doing. He certainly knows you didn’t die on Taris, Bastila.” 

Bastila nodded, and then glanced to Bindo. “Lead the way,” she told him. “I’m certain you know this forest better than either of us.” 

Bindo didn’t say anything, simply set out from the little hut, leaving Cass and Bastila to follow him, struggling much less to travel now that a man who knew the pathways of this ancient forest was at their head. They said nothing as they followed him, a few times attacked by the creatures that roamed the darkness, each time fending them off with little trouble, until they came to an energy gate. 

“Saw a few of the Czerka guards messing with this, so I know how to open it,” Bindo said. “Don’t really know what they think they were trying to accomplish by putting this up. Most of the wild life can go over or around it, and the Wookies certainly know more about these woods than they do. Pretty typically arrogant, if you ask me.”

He didn’t wait for commentary, walking forward to play with the lock, the glowing blue barrier fizzling out, the sound of static it produced making the wildlife around sound suddenly deafening in its absence. 

“Past there is the machine…. And probably Freyr. He used to be the Chief of the Wookies until Chuundar chased him out,” Bindo explained. “Whatever you need… It’s in the deepest parts of the Shadowlands, and that’s past here.” 

He looked over his shoulder, glancing between Cass and Bastila, before he ducked between the two large tree trunks, forcing them to follow him into the darkness. 

The three Jedi descended, the forest growing thicker and darker, though Cass hadn’t thought it was possible, considering how lightless it was already. The noises grew louder, the things in this ancient place less afraid of people, both because they didn’t see them as often, and likely because they had less  _ reason _ to be. Cass immediately had the impression that the beasts here were imbued with the Dark Side, powerful monsters capable of doing great damage to the unprepared. 

He could feel it singing the deeper they went, throbbing like a heartbeat, dripping like nectar down the blade of a leaf, tempting as it was poisonous. If it didn’t feel like this, Jedi would never forsake the Light for the Dark, he thought to himself as the last of the light they could detect from the canopy above seemed to vanish all at once, leaving them in a world of near moonless night. 

There was payoff to the Dark Side, though it destroyed you from the inside in the long term, distorted and changed your features. 

_ Don’t be afraid of the change, Jaybird.  _

The voice tingling at the back of his neck was enough to make him momentarily freeze in abject terror, distracting him from the noises around him long enough that he didn’t notice the multiple pairs of glowing eyes staring at them from the thick underbrush. By the time he was fully cognizant of what was happened, it was only because a small, dark colored Kinrath was on top of him, mandibles clicking as it struggled to subdue him. 

It was anger, not calm, that surged through him the moment the beast managed to sink its pincers into him, a surge of dizziness nearly overcoming him. Thinking nothing of it in the moment as he struggled with the creature, tripping and stumbling backwards, farther and farther into the dense forest, Cass focused his attention on the monster, pushing it away from him with a surge of angry energy. 

Its back cracked against a tree, but Cass didn’t count on that killing it. He’d fought Kinrath before, though not black ones, and ignited his saber with a hiss, violet light reflecting off the thick, dark leaves of the ferns around him. With a few, neat slices, he watched the creature quite literally fall into pieces, another wave of dizziness overwhelming him a moment later as he collapsed to the ground.

Immediately, his eyes turned to the bite, and then to the forest around him… Only to realize he’d somehow been separated from the others. 

“Kriffing hell!” 

This time, the exclamation was followed by a bout of nausea so bad that he rolled over onto his hands and knees and immediately evacuated the contents of his stomach into the bushes. A groan pushed itself from his lips, and he wiped his arm on his sleeve --

He’d been poisoned. 

His mind raced like a series of swoop bikes, thinking about Bastila, who could probably purge it from his system, when the voice crept up the back of his neck again.

_ You can do it yourself. Concentrate. Deep breaths. Burn it from your own blood.  _

Cass froze, utterly still, as he stared at the brush beneath him, considering his options. He _ hated _ the voice,  _ hated _ the sensation that he was starting to truly and wholly lose his mind, and felt guilt for feeling hatred at all. 

But the voice -- Revan, he admitted to himself -- was right. 

Purging it himself was his best option.

Searching for Bastila and Bindo might take too long, and he didn’t know how long he had. 

Muscles aching, he pushed himself into a sitting position, crossing his legs and closing his eyes as he focused his senses inward. Blood. Bone. Sinew. He could feel them all, and the poison, a contaminant, one his body would rip itself apart to try to destroy. 

Taking a centering breathe, he remembered the word  _ burn _ , and focused his mind on doing just that -- Burning it away. His insides seemed to sear, sweat breaking out on his brow as the poison fought against him, but he could feel it blister and evaporate until at last it was gone, and he collapsed onto the forest floor, sweaty and panting, utterly exhausted. 

“Has to be a better way to do that,” he said aloud, fighting his heavy eyelids as he pushed himself to his feet, looking around. “Research it on Dantooine later, after we get off this rock.” 

Closing his eyes again, he reached out to try to sense Bastila through their Force Bond, but his own weakness was immensely distracting, and he was forced to eventually stumble onward, lest the predators close in on his location. He didn’t know if he could deal with any more violently venomous black Kinrath. 

Shivering as his skin cooled quickly beneath the perpetual shadowy night the trees created, he tried to center himself, forcing himself to pay attention to the ebb and flow of the Force. Without being able to sense Bastila, he hoped that the Force would scream louder to him than their Bond did.

It was only his good fortune that it did, a faint hum at the back of his mind. Where it would lead, he didn’t know, but wherever it would take him, it was sure to lead him to somewhere relevant to his quest… Hopefully.

The Force worked in mysterious ways. 

* * *

He had been walking for what felt like hours, though he had no way of knowing for sure.

It was possible that it only seemed to be that long because he was off the beaten path now, into the thick tangle of trees and brush, following a gut instinct that grew stronger with every step he took. Branches scraped him, leaving scratches on his exposed wrists, but oddly enough he hadn’t encountered any more creatures. 

In fact, this part of the forest seemed to be oddly silent, almost as if something were driving the wildlife away. He couldn’t quite place what it might be until he heard the electronic humming, his steps increasing in pace and purpose as he pushed forward through the trees, and stumbled into a large clearing.

There, he saw the Star Map, just the same as it had looked on Tatooine, though this time it was an accompanied by a strange machine… 

One that flickered to life the moment he stepped closer to it. 

A stream of blue light shot toward him, sweeping over his skin several times as Cass stood frozen beneath it, watching as a holographic interface shimmered into existence. The image displayed was not of a human, but of an alien species whose appearance felt hauntingly familiar to him, for some reason, with its horizontal eyestalks and its large, domed head. 

“Congratulations, user, you are a near match of the data I have on record,” said a strangely neutral sounding voice in perfect Galactic Basic. “If you pass further inquiries to prove your compatibility, you will be given access to the data I protect.”

“Wait…” Cass started, pausing, pressing his hand to his head. “Near match? Compatibility? Data?” 

His eyes darted toward the Star Map, which he quickly motioned toward, watching the holographic head turn to follow his hand. 

“You are a near match for the profile I have on system. I was programmed by that individual to protect the data you now seek… The Star Map,” the alien said in still perfect Galactic Basic. “Anything more, I cannot say, as the parameters of my programming restrict it, though I believe this was not my original purpose. All other data has been corrupted or lost.” 

Cass paused for a moment, his mouth opening and closing several times. Something told him that if he asked who had programmed this AI, he wouldn’t get much of a response… But it didn’t matter. 

He actually had a sinking feeling he already knew the answer.

Really, who else could it be? 

He took a breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked up into the AI’s expressionless alien face. “You mentioned compatibility inquiries. Is it within the range of your programming to elaborate?” 

“I can,” the AI replied. “I was left with instructions to test whoever appeared to be a match to ensure only my original user could access my data. You are a match, but in order to verify your identity, I do need you to provide me with answers that resemble those in my database.” 

He took a deep, calming breath and closed his eyes. 

_ Think like Revan _ , said the annoying little Revan-voice in the back of his head. 

Cass didn’t want to think like Revan, though. 

He wanted to think like himself.

But what choice did he really have? 

“Fine,” he said at last, nodding. “I’ll take your test. I need that data, so I don’t have a choice.”

“Understood,” the AI replied, perfectly composed. “We will begin.” There was a brief pause before the recording shivered and skipped as it rerouted its programming to ask the proper questions. 

“You and an ally are captured by the enemy and sent to questioning,” the AI began. “If both of you remain silent, you serve one year in prison. However, if you accuse him, you will serve none while he serves five. Unbeknownst to you, he is offered the same deal, and if you accuse one another, you both serve two years. What do you trust him to do?” 

Cass’ mind immediately began to work over the scenario as he stood in the jarring blue light of the hologram as it cut through the darkness of the deep forest. 

Ultimately, it was a question of _ trust  _ \-- The sentences were arbitrary, irrelevant, and distracting, outside of their significance to the matter of his bond with his ally. Could you trust your friend to not accuse you? Was it worth spending one or two years in prison if you could go completely free? 

And yet, knowing he had trusted you and you had accused him in order to be released… How could someone live with that burden? 

Unless that someone had never trusted or cared for their companion in the first place, and was constantly suspicious of the motivations of others. Someone like Revan. 

_ People can be broken and manipulated. How can you trust they will still be good and maintain their loyalty to you under duress? People are selfish, Jaybird. Anything that corrupts your strength is against you. _

“I would trust my companion,” Cass said, trying to ignore the voice at the back of his mind, to push it away somewhere else, as tempting as it was to give in and give the correct answers -- Especially since he wasn’t sure of the consequences of defying the machine. 

“Perhaps the question is confusing,” the AI decided. “You decided that you would trust your companion in spite of the fact that you may receive five years if he betrays you. It is possible my wording was faulty, however. There is insufficient data. I will ask you another question and continue the assessment.” 

The AI alien seemed to sigh, as if burdened by his ineptitude, and did not wait for a response before continuing the assessment. 

“You are at war and intercept a transmission. From this transmission you learn two things --” The holographic AI held up one long finger. “First, a single spot in their defense will be at its weakest in ten days, second, they plan to attack one of your cities in five. What do you do with this information? What is the most efficient course of action?” 

Trust and efficiency? 

Of all the things Revan could choose to define him, he chose his paranoia and his ruthlessness? 

It wasn’t how Cass would choose to be remembered, even if Revan  _ had  _ won the war. 

After all, he was fairly certain that the AI wanted him to abandon the city -- He could even see the logic behind it, really. This idea that the ends would justify the means and that more lives might be saved in the long run by sacrificing the lives of a few thousand people for the lives of billions, especially if one could end the war in one, swift movement. 

But what if you could save both? 

What if there was a way to fortify the city while evacuating as many civilians as possible? 

There had to be more options. Going with the direct route, though tactically sound, was morally bankrupt. Even if he risked giving away that he had intercepted important information by attempting to save the people of the city, what good would it do him if he abandoned the people he had gone to war for? 

_ Why be sentimental? Would anyone do the same for you? The important thing is victory, quick and decisive. That’s what matters in war. Your enemy would not show their own people mercy.  _

Cass wouldn’t become his enemy. 

“I refuse to abandon my people,” Cass said, a lump forming in his throat, refusing to surrender, secretly terrified that he was only answering defiantly because he didn’t want to be like Revan. 

To his great shock, it was the sudden memory of Bastila reminding him that he could have things in common with Revan without being him that grounded him. 

“You do not match the pattern in memory,” the AI said. “My programming dictates that you are to be eliminated. Unfortunate. You were quite promising.” 

There was a sound from above, a mechanical whirring and the sound of wood cracking as a kinrath-like droid fell from the trees. It reminded Cass of the Droids from the black ruins on Dantooine, equipped with some kind of flame thrower that it immediately discharged in his direction, forcing him to dive to the forest floor as he ignited his lightsaber. Rolling to his feet, he spun on the droid, saber glowing violet in the darkness, dropping into stance without thinking. 

The droid lunged toward him again, shrieking across the clearing toward him. Feinting toward the left, he moved out of the way, his mind leaving no room for hesitation or mercy as he raised his hand and pushed the machine farther away from him, into one of the nearby trees. 

Without a thought, he tossed his saber at the massive droid, watching it arc through the air as it spun, his will exerted subtly as the saber sliced through one of the front legs and set it off balance. As it fell forward, Cass’ blade returned to his hand and he jumped, coming down on the machine from above as he drove his saber through its chassis. 

It fizzled and crunched before its servos moaned and it collapsed into a pile on the ground, leaving Cass kneeling by its smoldering wreckage. Straightening himself, senses on high alert, he spun around when he heard sounds coming toward him through the brush, forcing his instincts into submission the moment he saw Bastila and Bindo emerge from the depths of the forest. 

“Cassus,” Bastila breathed, her relief palpable in the air between them. “I was… I was concerned. It’s good to see you relatively unscathed. I thought I felt…” She shook her head as she stepped toward him, blue eyes filled with concern. “It doesn’t matter.” 

Her appearance was enough to momentarily distract him, stepping forward as he fought down the urge to comfort her. Instead, he offered her a small smile, ignoring the way Bindo looked at him with scrutiny in favor of reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. “I managed well enough. And look --” he jerked his head toward the machine. “I found our Star Map. Not sure how I’m going to get the data, though, you won’t believe what ju--”

As if summoned, the AI flickered back to life, the strange alien face looking only at him, leaving Cass feeling perpetually uncomfortable. 

How many people felt the need to stare at him? 

“Brain scans during combat indicate that you mate the profile on record,” the AI announced. “Perhaps my data is more corrupt than initially anticipated. I apologize for misidentifying you. You will now be granted access to my data.”

The hologram flickered out of existence, and the lock on the Star Map flew up into the trees, leaving Cass standing in the middle of the deep forest with a surprised and confused Bastila and an oddly impassive looking Bindo. 

“Well,” Cass sighed, attempting to add some humor to the situation. “I guess that answers that question. It turns out I’m a match to our not-so-mysterious reprogrammer after all, since I doubt this thing spoke Galactic Basic originally.” 

He didn’t wait for either of them to respond, the strange sensation from the cave on Tatooine momentarily returning as he stepped forward, outstretching his hand toward the alien machine. Underneath his touch, a map blossomed from the core of the terminals claws, bathing them all in white and blue light. 

Cass tried not to think too much about what the strange feelings meant, nor the pressure in his head and the sudden sensation that he was forgetting something vitally important. 

“You… Think Revan was here?” Bastila asked, shaking him from his thoughts for the second time. 

Turning back around, Cass nodded. “Yes. The machine gave me some sort of wicked quiz and punished me for answering incorrectly with that giant droid over there.” His eyes flickered briefly to Bindo, who was still staring at the Star Map, before he returned his attention to Bastila. “And now, thanks to my combat technique, it apparently thinks I’m Revan. Actually, it already thought I was Revan, considering it tested me for access privileges at all.” 

Bastila’s feelings flared for a moment -- Worry, guilt -- but she quickly schooled them, and reached out to place a hand on his arm, small but comforting, leaving Cass to puzzle out her emotions. “You are nothing like the Revan I met on the Behemoth.” 

He took a breath, briefly covering her hand with his own, looking down into her eyes and offering her a lopsided smile. “Thanks, Bastila. I’m... “ his brow furrowed and he breathed out softly, resolving to tell her about the voices he was hearing. “Later. Can we talk? I think I might need your help.”

She looked confused, then concerned, but nodded her assent. “Of course, Cass.” 

“If you two are done sharing your moment,” Bindo’s rough voice interrupted them. “Can we move on? You shouldn’t stand in one place in this forest for too long.” 

Without waiting for them to respond, he set back out through the trees, leaving the both of them to struggle after him, though not for long. Bindo quickly slowed his pace, and fell into step beside Cass, looking up into his face with that same expression in his intense, dark eyes. “So,” he began conversationally. “You managed to get that blasted machine to work for you, huh? Interesting. I always wondered if that thing didn’t have something to do with how Dark this forest is.” 

“It’s possible,” Cass replied. “The one on Tatooine mutated a Krayt Dragon to unusual size. This world is verdant and green, so I imagine that it could more of an effect with more thriving ecosystem to influence.” 

“You’re pretty smart,” Bindo said. “I heard from Jedi Knight Shan here that you were a Lieutenant in the Republic Military, and that you were a smuggler before that. Where’d a smuggler get an education like that?” 

Cass paused for a moment, looking toward Jolee over his shoulder, his brows furrowing deeply. “What? I’m not allowed to have gone to school?”

“A farmer’s son turned smuggler? Sure, 

you’re allowed to --” Jolee said with a shrug. “But  _ did _ you?”

“If he hadn’t gone to school, he wouldn’t have been accepted for the position of an officer. Not every farmer on Deralia is poor,” Bastila said, immediately snapping to his defense. “Clearly, he has an education.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Jolee said with a snort. “But point taken, I guess. Still odd for them to teach about any ecosystem other than their own in an Derallian school.” 

“Which can be explained because I’m intelligent,” Cass said, casting Bastila a grateful look, finding her staring off into the distance. “I’m a quick learner. I always have been.” 

And then he pulled ahead, not wanting to be questioned about things by a crotchety old hermit who probably hadn’t left the planet in several decades. He had better things to do -- like tracking down a Wookie in a planet-wide forest, and no time to think about the voices in his head or the gaps in his memory. 

And even if he had time, well… 

He doubted he would have wanted to think about it anyway.

* * *

They walked for what seemed like hours, and possibly could been, in a silence infuriating only because of the noise of all the creatures around them. The forest itself seemed infinitely talkative, ready to capitalize on their lack of conversation, driving Cass to anger.

He’d never felt so irritable, so much so that he could feel the Darkness pulsing so strongly that he could reach out to it if he truly wanted to. 

It frightened him. 

He knew Bastila could feel it, could sense that she wanted to help, but something was holding her back -- her own familiar fear. At least she was grappling with it, he thought, which was a somewhat comforting thought. Bindo, predictably, offered no comfort at all, his emotions remote and unreachable. 

Cass didn’t have the luxury of ignoring his own emotions, through, anger reaching a boiling point as it overflowed, hand shooting out and impacting the trunk of a tree, sending cracks across the dark bark. 

The small creatures around the massive tree yelped and shrieked as they scurried away, Bindo immediately hissing his disapproval. “Are you crazy, boy? You’ll alert every predator for a mile to our presence.” 

“Then let them come,” Cass said, scarcely recognizing his own voice as he stared at the fracture in the tree’s bark. “At this point it would be a welcome distraction from all this…  _ nothing _ . The silence is driving me insane.” 

He laughed, running his free hand over his face. “No. Maybe I already am crazy. I have to be to have used that damn machine. Kriffing hell.”

“Are we really going to do this right now? Have an existential crisis in the middle of one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy?” Bindo sighed. “Fine. I guess I’ll just sit over here and wait for you to finish. Wish you would have saved it for the ship, though.” 

“Oh, come off it,” Cass snapped, spinning on Bindo, “You’re part of the problem, Bindo. You have been since the beginning.” 

“If you want to blame me for your inability to control your emotions, go on ahead. It won’t do anything other than make you feel better.” Jolee remained sitting on the ground, staring up into the canopy. “But maybe if you feel better we can get out of here.” 

Cass opened his mouth and then snapped it closed -- 

As bizarre as Bindo was, he was still a Jedi… And so was Cass, but in this moment, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to act like one, even if he really ought to. Stringing his fingers through his hair, he tried to release his anger, to let it go, at least for the sake of the mission -- For the Galaxy, but this place was clouding his senses. 

_ It would be easy to give in. You might even find clarity in it. There is security in anger.  _

_ Certainty you don’t currently possess.  _

“Shut up!” 

He hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud until Bastila’s hand touched his arm and he found himself staring down into Bastila’s face, her eyes wide and worried. “Cassus?” 

The look in her eyes made him feel helpless and small, the concern there cementing in his mind just how far his sanity had unwound in the last few days. He felt like he was walking on the edge of a blade and that he was about to tip off at any second, and he couldn’t be sure which way he would fall.

Bastila had talked about the temptation of the Dark Side, but he hadn’t realized until just this moment how prone he might be to Falling, or how easy it could be. 

The worst part about it was that Revan was right -- There  _ was _ security and clarity in anger. 

It was peace and detachment he was struggling with.. 

“I’m hearing his voice in my head now…. When I’m awake,” Cass told her, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to look at that damnable expression of hers, too soft on her face, too moving -- He couldn’t deal with those sorts of feelings right now. “It could be this place. It’s Darker than Tatooine, which just felt… Empty. Here, I feel… I don’t know. I just…  _ Feel _ .”

The farther he drifted from Dantooine, the less he felt like a Jedi…. But Bindo was right. 

Could he really afford to ask these existential questions right now? 

They were in the middle of a mission! They had to find Freyr and rescue Zaalbar, and… And… 

And he was falling apart and he didn’t know why. 

And he hated it.

And he was going  _ mad _ . 

“Revan’s... . voice?” Bastila asked, sounding uncertain enough that he opened his eyes to look at her, finding confusion there again. “I… I don’t know that such a thing should be possible. When we get back to the Hawk--” 

“I don’t know if I have that time of time,” he said, cutting her off. “I could already use his damn machine, Bastila. How much longer before I lose myself to him completely? I… I don’t even know who I am anymore. I can’t remember what it was like to be Cassus Jaylen.” 

Bastila was stunned into silence, their link reverberating with her shock, vibrating across the Bond between them. For a split second, he was afraid she would recoil, but instead, she reached out to grasp both of his shoulders hard, staring up into his eyes with an intensity that he had only seem mirrored in combat. 

“Cassus, listen to me. You are not the man on the Behemoths. Whatever else you are -- Scoundrel, pilot, Jedi, dashing rogue -- you are a good man. I know this to be true. Don’t let whatever you’re feeling because of the Star Forge and your destiny overwhelm you.” She squeezed his shoulders, and he immediately felt her presence -- strong, bright, warm -- calming him. “You live in this moment. You are a Jedi.” 

Though he wondered if she was right about that last statement, she was right about one thing -- He did live in this moment. He wasn’t the memories of some man that floated inside of his mind, some man he never had been and never would be. 

He was Cassus Jaylen… 

Even if Cassus Jaylen had changed from a smuggler to a Jedi in training. 

Nothing could alter that. 

He just had to keep that in mind in this forest. 

“As much as I’m touched by seeing your bonding moment, you two might want to look alive,” came Bindo’s voice followed by the sound of a saber igniting. “We’ve got company.”

Cass turned around, at first expecting the wildlife Bindo had promised, only mildly surprised when a large, dark Wookie emerged from the blackness, a broken hilt attached to a belt on his hip, a vibroblade clutched in his paw. His eyes burned with so much anger that Cass knew immediately there would be no reasoning with him unless they were to reason through blood and battle. 

Pushing thoughts of uncertainty from his mind using some stubborn reserve of willpower he hadn’t quite realized he possessed, Cass ignited his lightsaber as he stared down the Wookie.   

“Well,” he said. “I think we found Freyr.”

Neither Bastila or the Wookie seemed amused. 


	19. Part Two: Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy first update of the new year, friends. 
> 
> May the Force be with us all in 2017.

Freyr’s claws ended up being more of a threat than his vibroblade, and Cass vaguely recalled stories he’d heard long ago from an old smuggler friend of his about “madclaws” and how claws were only for climbing -- It left a million questions about Zalbaar and Freyr in his mind, swimming and spinning like shadows through the treetops, though he pushed them away without fail. 

There were other things to concentrate on, like the ebb and flow of battle, and whether or not he wanted to kill this Wookie now that he was being attacked, or find a way to incapacitate him to get his answers. 

In the meantime, the Wookie’s eyes burned through the darkness as he plowed through the brush straight toward Cass, who was glad that he was the one who had been targeted as he jumped away from the swipe. Mind reeling, he looked around, gaze briefly flicking toward his lightsaber before he decided that he couldn’t use it against this opponent, wondering how long he had before Bindo and Bastila reacted. 

Taking a breath in the instance before Freyr charged him again, Cass leapt into the air landing behind the Wookie and spinning around. Hands outspread, he pushed outward through the Force, sending Freyr flying forward into a tree trunk. The smack his impact made was deafening, but it didn’t take him long to recover, slowly turning around, enraged. 

“Stop it,” Cass said, watching Bindo hold out his hand to stop Bastila from reacting out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t have to do this, Freyr.” 

Freyr growled and tried to swipe at Cass with his claws, Cass throwing up a barrier at the last minute, blows landing against a bubble made of the Force. Behind him, he could hear Bastila make a shocked, pained noise, but couldn’t afford to look back at her, all his concentration on his barrier. 

_ Breathe. Remember your training.  _

Not sure of whose voice he was hearing this time and with no time to contemplate it, Cass reached out with the Force, thinking only about how he wanted to freeze the Wookie in place, to stop him from moving. He wanted to talk, just to talk, to find a solution to this problem in which a slaver and blood traitor didn’t win. 

Pushing Freyr away a second time, Cass dug his heels into the ground and waved his hand, watching as strands of bright white light reached up, wrapping around the Wookie’s legs and arms, before they vanished… And held him in place. 

“Freyr--” Cass began, but the Wookie only shouted over him, his cries making things in the bushes shuddered and flee with terror.

“Freyr!” He shouted, and to his great surprise, the Wookie remained still, staring at him with wide, angry eyes, shoulders heaving as he panted. “I’m here because of your sons! Chuundar and Zaalbar! Zaalbar travels with me… He… He owes me a Life Debt.” 

Those words seemed to clear the Wookie’s eyes of all rage, and before long, he slumped against his invisible bonds, staring straight into Cass’ face. “You know my sons? You travel with Zaalbar?” 

“Yes. I saved him from Gamorrean slavers on Taris. He… We’re friends,” Cass said, taking a cautious step forward. “I was ordered by Chuundar to come kill you, but I want to know  _ why _ . I want to act in the best interest of your people, not ally with the most convenient person.” 

For a long moment, Freyr said nothing, staring at the ground, his shaggy, mottled coat, catching a few errant drops of rain that made it through the dense canopy as it started to rain. “You care about the Wookies?” 

“I’m a Jedi,” Cass explained, “and even if I weren’t -- even if I were still a Smuggler working off of Coruscant -- I’ve always hated slavers.” 

The Wookie barked a laugh, a bitter one, and Cass released his bonds, watching the man rub his wrists. “I apologize. It’s been a long time since I spoke to a person, especially an outsider. You are a friend of my son, and an ally to the Wookies. Chuundar wishes me dead?” 

Cass ignored the feeling of Bindo’s eyes on him, getting incredibly sick of the way the man seemed to scrutinize every single thing he did but pushing the feeling away. “He’s selling your people into slavery.” 

Freyr made a long, sad vocalization and leaned against a tree trunk. “This is my shame. Long ago, I sided with Chuundar in a feud between my sons… And now Chuundar is the Chieftain and leading our people to ruin.” 

Cass nodded, but then stepped forward. “Is there a way to challenge him, Freyr? A way to remove him from power and put you in charge of your people again?” 

“That the man sent to be my assassin would ask such a question!” Old Freyr barked a Wookie laugh as he shook his shaggy head slowly from side to side. “Do you see this hilt?” He pressed his hand to a massive wooden object at his sind, inlaid with carvings. “This is the hilt of Bacca’s blade, an object of ceremonial significance to my people. If you could help me find the blade that belongs to this hilt… I would have the grounds to challenge my son.” 

Cass hesitated for a moment, not because he wasn’t prepared to say yes, but because he had further questions and wasn’t sure how to word them. Running his hand through his beard, he heaved a sigh. “And this blade… it’s in the Shadowlands?” 

“Yes,” the Wookie responded, “but in all my years here, I have not been able to retrieve it. It shames me to ask this of an outsider… But perhaps you will succeed where I have failed. I have a feeling about you.”

Cass laughed at that. “It seems like most people do, Freyr.”

“I will wait here for you, human,” Freyr replied, bowing his head once more. “Please, move as quickly as you can.” 

Not bothering to respond, Cass set out a ways, waiting for Bastila and Bindo to find them before he turned to Bindo, who was already looking at him expectantly. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“I have an idea,” Bindo said, his expression curious. “Glad to see you’re the sort to make use of every resource available to you.”

“I’d be an idiot if I weren’t -- Bastila… I… I have a favor to ask of you.” She looked toward him, blue eyes curious, her dark brown drawn over them. “I need you to stay with Freyr. I’ll be able to follow our Bond back to you.” 

Bastila hesitated and looked back over her shoulder, nodding before she took a step forward and placed one of her hands on his shoulder. “Okay,” she said, searching his face with such scrutiny and intensity that he suddenly felt embarrassed for being an unshaven wreck. “Can we… Talk more later?” 

He opened his mouth. 

Then closed it.

Then nodded. 

Bastila pulled away.

He could still feel the phantom of her hand on his arm. 

Maybe he was underestimating his attraction to her. 

There was no reason he should be this incredibly aware of everything she did, Bond excepting, including the way her eyes lingered on him just a bit too long as she turned away from him to make her way back toward Freyr. 

He’d think about it later. 

Of all the things this planet was bringing out in him, this was probably the least bothersome, and oddly enough… a bit comforting, if only because it was still normal. If only because it made him feel more like himself and less like… 

Less like Revan. 

“Ready to head out? Or are you just going to stare after her all night?” 

Cass’ eyes snapped to Jolee, and he snorted, shaking his head slowly from side to side. “No. I was just…”

“Lost in thought? Yeah. Young people are stupid that way. Come on,” he waved his hand. “Let’s get this over with so we can all get out of here.” 

Choosing not to answer, Cass followed after Bindo, the woods growing thicker and deeper as they traveled downhill, though he certainly hadn’t thought that was possible. The sense of the Dark Side closing in around him made him feel… paranoid, unsettled. Thankfully, though, there was no more voice, not for the moment, which allowed him to think clearly even with the feeling of the forest growing increasingly more Dark pounding through his skull like a drum beat. 

For some time, Cass and Bindo said nothing to each other until the old man apparently decided that it should only be silent when he wanted it to be and struck up conversation. “You’re not exactly what I expected you to be when I saw you coming over that rise.” 

“I’m never what people expect me to be.” Cass said flippantly. “Clearly not charming and good-willed. I guess everyone expects me to make flamboyant speeches and steal credits from children?” 

“Joke all you want, but I think we both know that behind that beard and unassuming smile lies the mind of a master strategist,” Bindo said with a snort. 

Cass froze for a moment, staring at Bindo with wide, dark eyes, before he shrugged. “That’s a matter of opinion. It’s true I have a mind for people and their working components… But it’s not like you’re making it sound.” 

He pushed onward, brow furrowed deeply, tearing his eyes away from Bindo’s face and focusing on his back as they traveled through the depths of the forest. Cass had no idea how long he’d be stuck listening to Bindo talk about this, but any time someone called him any kind of genius… It always made him uncomfortable.

It had always been about his instincts. 

Even back on the Spire. 

“Isn’t it?” Bindo asked. “Improvisation is a kind of intelligence, you know. Not everyone is quite as good at thinking on their feet as you. Shan, for example, is good at following the rules, even if she doesn’t always want to.” 

“I don’t think about it, I just trust… The Force, I guess,” he shrugged, sighing heavily. “I always have.” 

“Pretty interesting for someone who supposedly wasn’t aware of it,” Bindo said, “but that’s not my point. Do you even know that you’re hiding behind a smile and a laugh, or is it just something you do now? To make sure no one takes you too seriously?” 

For a half second, Cass was tempted to deny what he was saying, but there was no point, Pausing, placing his hand on a nearby tree trunk, he bowed his head. “I told Bastila before that I just have a sense of humor. I don’t know why anyone finds that so hard to believe. Can’t I be both at once, Bindo? Do I have to tell jokes because I’m  **_lying_ ** about something?”

He didn’t let Bindo respond as he stared into the darkness, feeling eyes from within staring back at him. “Not acknowledging that I’m unusually clever doesn’t mean I don’t realize I am… Or that I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

He  _ did _ know what he was doing. 

And he’d survived worse things than old men who wanted to psychoanalyze him in evil forests. 

To his surprise, Bindo laughed. “So young. So defensive. Do you take everything this seriously?”

The bushes in front of them began to rustle and shake, and Cass ignited his lightsaber with a flick of a switch. “I think you’ll find I take most everything seriously.”

“Probably why your sense of humor keeps surprising people,” said Bindo, voice accompanied by the hiss of his own blade as it activated and the clicking of kinrath mandibles. 

“In my defense, I keep surprising myself, too,” Cass admitted, standing his ground as the first of the creatures leaped from the brush, heading straight for his face. “Maybe that’s why I keep surprising everyone else.”

Holding his blade out in front of him, the kinrath collided with the blade, slicing itself neatly in two, landing on either side of him. “Truth be told, you’re not wrong about me. And maybe that’s why you annoy me so much.” 

Bindo laughed again, saber hissing as a kinrath screeched when he sliced its legs out from underneath it. “And he’s honest, for once. How often does that happen?”

“Out loud? Not very,” Cass replied, moving left based on instinct alone, another of the bugs flying past his head. Tossing his blade to his other hand, he sliced sideways, sending another kinrath falling to the ground, dead. “In my head? More often. I’m probably losing my mind. I don’t know myself anymore. Not as well as I’d like, anyway.” 

“So you do hide things.”

“But not!” Cass said, grunting as he sent his saber flying, slicing off the top half of a kinrath as his blade returned to his hand, “with humor. Maybe I act like I’m unaffected. Maybe I don’t tell people what I’m thinking. Maybe I don’t have anyone I can completely trust with what’s happening inside my head. But I’m  _ not _ deflecting with humor.” 

There was a thump as the last kinrath fell to the ground, and Cass recalled his blade, hooking his saber back to his belt, staring at the corpse of one of the bugs, a tingling sensation creeping up the back of his neck. “But I’m their leader,” he said, distracted as he kneeled down. “They need me to be that person, and until this is over..” 

Reaching out, not caring if Bindo had “tricked” him into reasoning through something on his own, he quickly picked up the kinrath corpse and threw it over his shoulder. “Until this is over, that’s who I am. The person they look to for stability. Voices in my head be damned. My own insecurities be damned.” 

“If you’re willing to pay the price, I’ll admit, that’s your prerogative. Life isn’t just sacrifice, though. Not even for someone like you.” 

Cass didn’t bother to ask what Bindo meant. “Come on. We have some Wookies to liberate. If you want to bother me, you can do it later.” 

“I’ll bother you whenever I want,” Bindo said, smiling from behind his beard and bushy white eyebrows. “But right now I agree. The drama of your life hasn’t come to a head quite yet.”

Cass snorted… But it felt rather ominous anyway. 

He sighed and something told him that, no matter how much of an understanding he and Bindo came to, the old man would always have that effect on him. 

* * *

At some point, Cass found himself  lying on his back, staring up at a beast more compact than a rancor, though with its rough shape, with a head like some kind of fish, but with rows and rows of sharp teeth, and immune to the Force.

Or at least… Resistant. 

Instinct, or Revan, or both told him it was called a Terentatek, but that mattered much less than the fact that it could kill him. 

Rolling away as a claw swiped at him, Cass eyes glanced to Bindo, unconscious against a tree with a single blow from the beast’s massive, meaty arms. For a moment, his gaze lighted on the saber laying in the dirt beside him, his mind moving more quickly than coherent sentences could form within his brain. 

Reaching out with his arm, he called to the saber with the Force, not watching it fly into his hand. Kinrath corpse swinging on a ancient vine over his head, Cass scanned the clearing, eyes lighting on the glint of black metal lodged between the monster’s plates, then back toward one of the massive trees, the inkling of a plan formulating in his brain even as his stalker advanced upon him, a few lumbering steps followed by a roar and a charge. 

Leaping into the air, Cass kicked off the trunk and landed on top of the monster’s back, igniting Bindo’s blade and his own as he struggled to keep his balance, driving both into the gaps between its plates. It cried out in pain, howling as it tried to swipe him off its back, but he drove the sabers deeper still, enough that it slowed and finally fell to the ground with a heavy thud. 

Dismissing the blades, Cass jumped from the monster’s back. Landing neatly beside it, eyes flickering toward Bindo, who was already stirring. 

“Ugh... “ the old man, grumbled, pushing himself into a sitting position. “You just going to stare at me? Or give me my saber and a medpac?” 

Cass snorted, glancing back over at the creature to make sure it was dead before he tossed Bindo’s saber and a medpac into the dirt beside him. “Too bad you missed that fight. It wasn’t a bad one.” 

“I’d tell you that you should be ashamed for enjoying the thrill of battle, but I’ve known one too many Jedi in my lifetime who do to shame you for it,” Bindo cracked his neck as Cass turned back toward the monster and its sword. “But I fought against Exar Kun and his Sith.” 

“I’m not surprised,” Cass replied, jumping back atop the beast’s body and examining the blade wedged inside of it. “You’re about as old as Master Vrook, aren’t you?” 

“Lamar?” Bindo laughed, the sound turning into a cough a second later before Cass heard the hiss of a medpac injecting. “Yeah. We’re around the same age. Bet he doesn’t like you too much.” 

“No,” Cass said, chuckling as he closed his eyes and outstretched his arm, reaching out with the Force to grasp the blade in his mind, visualizing it lifting into the air. “No he doesn’t.” 

He could hear the sound metal sliding against the thick plates of the monster’s body and opened his eyes to find the blade hovering just in front of his face. Worrying his lip in between his teeth for a moment, he worked his sash out from underneath his belt and then gingerly wrapped it around the still floating blade, careful not to cut himself on the miraculously sharp edge. “I’m a bit too rebellious for his tastes, I think… And too old.” 

Bindo didn’t say anything, not for a moment, giving Cass time to fasten the wrapped blade to his belt with items from his utility pouches. The forest around them seemed oddly quiet now that this beast was dead, Cass thought, as if some of the Darkness had left it. As he leapt away from the carcass, he wondered about this old monster’s source and what other dark things might lurk in the world’s unknown places. 

Part of him was even a bit curious to discover them on his own, and he wondered if that was something the Jedi would allow him to do after… After all of this was over. 

“You are too old,” Bindo said after a moment. “Which makes me wonder… How did you end up with the Order anyway? I know about Shan. Already asked her… But you… You’re a bit of a mystery to me.”

“Smuggler,” Cass said. “But you already knew that. Used to run the Corellian run. Blasters and spice. Somehow, I ended up in the Republic Military as an officer, and then... “ He laughed. “I had to save Bastila from the hands of some Tarisian gangsters. We barely escaped before Malak bombed the surface of the planet.” 

He looked over at Bindo, who was struggling to get to his feet, leaning against a tree trunk. Cass stroked his beard thoughtfully, suddenly struck by just how much he had changed since Taris… Even since Dantooine. Maybe he  _ felt _ different because he really  _ was _ different. 

“We took Bastila to the Enclave on Dantooine. After that… They discovered Bastila and I had a connection to each other and to Revan. They’re using us to track down the pieces of the Star Map, which leads to some kind of… Something,” Cass gestured vaguely. “A factory. The one Malak uses to make his Droids and ships.” 

“So it comes down to some great destiny after all,” Bindo said with a sigh. “By the way, you might want to answer that. It’s been flashing for at least a minute.” 

Glancing to the holocomm on his wrist, he frowned sharply, pressing the button to watch a tiny image of Mission spring into existence. 

“Flyboy?” she asked, her voice little more than a frantic whisper. “Thank the Force. I’ve been trying to call you for hours. Why haven’t you picked up?”

“Beeper’s broken. Probably got jostled,” he said, looking around before he crouched, his brow furrowed deeply. “What’s wrong? You sound anxious.” 

“You have to hurry,” Mission said, eyes darting from side to side. “Listen, it’s bad here. I called the Captain and tried to see if he could send help, but Juhani said it would probably just make the Wookies more angry... “ She rubbed the back of her neck and heaved a sigh, her shoulders sagging. “Chuundar is making Big Z doubt, Flyboy. If you’re going to pull of a miracle like you did when you got us off of Taris… We could just… really use it now.” 

He watched as she sank lower to the ground, sitting against something he couldn’t see. “I could use it. Especially after losing Griff.” 

Cass sighed, looking back out toward the trees for only a moment before he looked deep into Mission’s eyes, holding her gaze. “I might have your miracle wrapped in a piece of cloth on my hip. Just… Try to stall it as long as you can. Please.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but they treat me like a pretty blue piece of meat here,” Mission said, wringing her hands together, visibly hesitating for a moment. “...Cass?”

Gentling his features, Cass turned his back on Bindo and quieted his own voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“If you don’t come back I’m worried Chuundar is going to try to do the same thing to me he did to the Wookies. I... “ She froze. “I’ve gotta go. Just hurry, Flyboy.” 

He stared into the space she had been for a moment after she vanished, turning his attention back to Bindo. Not saying anything, he turned away, pulling on the strands of his Bond with Bastila as he disappeared back into the trees, moving as quickly as he could through the thick foliage. 

The idea that Mission could be sold had never occurred to him, though it honestly should have, now that he thought about it. Cass had spent years in the underbelly of the Galaxy, had been to Nar Shaddaa often enough to know about the not-so-secret slave trade. All one had to do was walk into any Cantina in the Galaxy to know the popularity of Twi’Lek women as slaves. 

Stupid,  **_stupid_ ** Cassus. 

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was distracted by the fact that he had endangered someone who had been entrusted into his care, but time seemed to move relatively quickly as they traveled. Before long, they were greeting Bastila and Freyr, both of whom looked relieved to see them. 

“The object at your waist…” The Wookie began before Bastila could say anything. 

Bowing his head, Cass unfastened the object from his waist and unwrapped it, holding the blade in the air with the power of the Force once more. He watched Freyr’s eyes widen, then soften with gratitude before once more hardening with resolve. “You have done well. Though it is to my shame that I am not the one to retrieve it… You have given me hope. Given my people… Hope.” 

Freyr took his hilt from his side, and carefully guided the blade back to its home. Cass watched quietly as Freyr pulled away, a complete sword grasped in one of his mighty paws. “Are you ready, Human? We fight my son and drive his slavers from Kashyyyk. You will be the only humans allowed on this planet for some time.” 

“I’m ready,” Cass replied, glancing back over his shoulder to Bindo and Bastila. “Just give me a minute. I have some friends on my ship who can help us clean up Czerka’s camp. Feel free to go on ahead.” 

He glanced between them with his dark eyes, then nodded, turning to leave, moving through the forest far more easily than any human could. Turning back to his holocomm, Cass hailed the ship, feeling Bastila’s presence as she walked up behind him. 

“Sorry, Captain is busy right now. You’ll have to deal with me instead,” came the voice of Ordo. “Wasn’t exactly expecting to hear from you, though. Something wrong?”

“Canderous,” Cass said. “I need everyone on the ship ready to fight. We’ve gotten involved with the Wookie’s movement for freedom and I need you ready to drive them out. Keep T3 with the ship for a quick take-off and make sure HK knows not to use his flamethrower in the woods.” 

“The droid would do something like that, wouldn’t he?” Canderous asked, stroking the stubble on his chin. “Anything else we should be looking out for?” 

Cass nodded. “If anyone comes through with a Twi’lek, make sure you kill them.” 

Canderous’ dark eyes glinted with understanding as Juhani stepped into the frame. “We’re taking out the slaving operation here?” 

She seemed to be searching his face for something, though he wasn’t certain what. Cass simply nodded. “Yes, and we have to hurry. Make sure they don’t escape with anyone on their ships. If there are Wookies there waiting to be processed…”

“Never fear,” Juhani said, voice little more than a growl. “I will personally  ensure no one escapes this planet with Wookies in their cargo hold.” 

“One last thing,” he held up a finger, watching as she leaned forward to turn off the feed. “Have T3 set our course for Dantooine,” he glanced over his shoulder toward Bastila. “We need to restock on supplies. No more grey paste.” 

She nodded, and the feed went dead. 

“That seemed… incredibly personal for her,” Bastila commented, her voice concerned. 

“I’ll talk to her about it later,” Cass said, nodding absently. “Right now… I suggest we follow Freyr. We have a long night ahead of us.” 

Mind swimming with the present, Cass and his companions slipped back into the eternal darkness of the Shadowlands, less eager than he thought they would be to see daylight once more.

* * *

 

 

The Wookie village was unnervingly silent, and Cass finally noticed when he probably should have noticed the first time he was here -- How underpopulated and empty it seemed. Not allowing himself to feel guilty because of his own preoccupations, but resolving to be less focused on his own personal drama, Cass pushed forward into the company of the morose Freyr. 

All of them had agreed it was best if they went into the village with as few in their entourage as possible, so he’d asked Bastila and Bindo to go back to the Hawk to coordinate with the others on their attack on Czerka. In the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of some detail that made this a blow against Malak’s Empire, but couldn’t be bothered to process it, not when Wookies stared at them both from the windows of their homes. 

He sensed their fear, their apprehension, and their uncertainty, and could hardly blame them. Cass remembered his training as a Jedi, his oath to protect the innocent of the Galaxy filling himself with a sense of peace -- He was doing the right thing, fighting for the innocent, defeating injustice. 

It felt like home, more of a home than smuggling ever had.

Another something he would contemplate later, he resolved as they approached Chuundar’s Hall. Cass, suddenly getting the impression that the Czerka agents within and Chuundar wouldn’t know what to do if he came in with a flare, waved his hand and the doors slammed open. Inside, a cacophony of growls and whispers sounded as Cass and Freyr walked in, giving him enough chance to survey the room. 

Czerka Guards off to one side, hovering around Mission, who looked distressed -- not good. They were equipped with stun sticks and easily disarmed. To the other side of the room, more Czerka employees, this time more heavily armed, and in the center, Chuundar and Zalbaar, who were both staring at Freyr as if a ghost had walked into the room. 

With how long Cass had inferred Freyr had been gone, it probably felt like that. 

“Good evening, Chieftain,” Cass greeted, making eye contact with Zalbaar, whose gazed briefly flickered between his father and brother uncertainly. “I’ve brought someone who wants to have a little chat with you. I can’t promise it will be friendly.” 

“Chuundar,” Freyr growled, his son’s gaze going right past him, still focusing on Cassus. 

“You were a fool to betray me, Human. Bringing him here? What were you thinking?” Chuundar stalked forward, his dark eyes darting from Cass to his father. “You could have been on the winning side. I would have let you live and leave in one piece. I might have even paid you.” 

“Too bad for you,” Cass said with a shrug, igniting his saber, “I don’t take money from slavers. Blood money may spend the same, but it just doesn’t feel the same, you know? Probably something about how it was made on the backs of sentient life forms.” 

He glanced to Freyr, who had unfasted Bacca’s blade from his side, leveling the tip toward his son. “Stand down, Chuundar. I do not wish to hurt you, but if it is to save our people, I will do what is necessary.” 

Chuundar barked a loud laugh, slinging a bowcaster from his back and aiming it for his father. “No, father, you won’t. If you had, you’d understand why this needed to be done. I can protect our culture this way, I can prevent us from becoming a target of the Empire.” 

“No, Chuundar,” Freyr began -- cut off by the sound of the bowcaster firing off a shot. 

Jumping into motion, Cass jumped in front of Freyr, deflecting the blow straight into the chest of one of the two men restraining Mission. “Nice one, Fluffy, but I suggest you try again.” 

With Chuundar’s furious roar, the entire room dissolved into frantic action. 

To his right, Mission elbowed one of her guards in the gut, making a dash for the fallen guard's shockstick as Zalbaar roared and headed toward her. Chuundar fired off another blast as the armed guards swarmed them from the left side of the room. 

Deflecting another bowcaster blast, the bolt scorching the wooden wall, Cass reached out his hand and wrenched the bowcaster from the Wookie’s hands with the Force. He wasn’t about to let the idiot set fire to the entire place and kill them all. 

Spinning around, he narrowed his eyes as he faced the Czerka guards, who looked uncertain what to do now that they were facing a Jedi. While Freyr, now behind him, turned his full attention toward his sons, Cass resolved to make quick work of the guards. 

Leaping forward, he landed in their midsts, pulling the gun straight from one’s hands, spinning on another to strike him across the temple with his lightsaber’s hilt. Dodging left, he avoided the blow of a vibroblade, pulling two men toward one another, knocking their heads together and watching them fall onto the ground in a crumpled pile. 

Turning his attention to the rest of the room, he found Mission’s guards downed, Zalbaar holding the Twi’lek in his arms and Freyr cradling his eldest’s son’s head in his lap, Chunndar bloodied… And clearly dying. Wookies from the outside were banging on the windows, trying to get in, Freyr’s eyes only torn from his son when Cass cleared his throat. 

“I… I think they want to hear what you have to say,” Cass said, looking toward Mission and Zaalbar, deciding it was better if he didn’t interrupt their moment. 

Freyr nodded. “Yes. I would like to speak to you later, but I understand if you need to return your ship.”

“I’m going to help my crew clear Czerka out anyway,” Cassus replied, staring toward the door. “Come along when you’ve finished here and we can do clean up together.” Briefly, his eyes darted back toward Mission and Zaalbar. “And I’d appreciate you bringing my crew with you.” 

Freyr nodded. “I will do what I can. Thank you, stranger. This is a debt my people will never be able to repay.” 

Cass knew better than to tell a Wookie not to worry about debts, and bowed deeply before the once and future Chieftain as the Wookie walked toward the door to open it. Their eyes met only one more time as Cassus slipped away past the crowd and into the night now quickly falling on Kashyyyk, an understanding passing between them. 

Maybe the Shadowlands simply brought madness, but as he sped through the lamplit shadow of the pathways about the dark of the forest, Cass knew madness was something that could be overcome. Freyr was hope incarnate, not just for the Wookies. He was a reminder than the past didn’t have to define you as much as he was a reminder that darkness could be defeated…

No matter what some machine said about the patterns in your mind or which voices whispered to you. 

Breaking out into a run when he heard the sound of blaster fire, Cass sprinted across the planks effortlessly, jumping high into the air and landing in the midst of a gunfight between Carth and a few of the Czerka guards. Lightsaber igniting, he wasted no time in joining the fray, casting Carth a wide grin. 

Almost immediately, his group fell into an easy rhythm, listening to his orders as he shouted them -- Small things, adjustments they could make, ways to drive back their foe, who worked like a group of mercenaries more than a cohesive unit. It should have been surprising how easy it was for him to fall into the role of commander, considering he’d always worked alone, but it felt comfortable enough that he didn’t dwell on it. 

In no time, Czerka was scrambling away and falling back, leaving them standing on the loading docks with the freed Wookies in their midsts, shuttles taking off around them. 

“Do you think they’ll come back in force?” Carth asked from beside Cass, staring at the stars above them. 

“No,” Cass replied. “Czerka’s about profit, and slavery was illegal in the Empire anyway, last I checked, unless Malak’s changed things around. They were probably in this with the Hutts and the Spice Industry.” He looked toward Juhani, who was tending to the wounds of a small Wookie child, the woman meeting his eyes with a warm smile. “Now that Chuundar isn’t here and they don’t have an inside man handing them people, it’s not profitable. Czerka is a business -- They’re not like the Sith.” 

“Good to know,” Carth sighed, running his hand through his hair. “This could have gone a lot worse. It’s probably only because you were here that it didn’t.” 

“You’re giving me too much credit,” Cass said, eyes on the figures approaching them. “A lot of it is due to the loyalty of the Wookies to their old Chief, and most of it? I probably owe that to the Force.” 

“If you say so,” Carth said with a smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Want me to get the Hawk fired up?” 

“Yeah,” Cass said. “T3 already should have set a course and everything should be ready to go, but you can check to make sure things are just the way you like it. I think I have some goodbyes to make.” 

Carth nodded, something Cass only caught from the corner of his eye as he stepped forward to greet Freyr and his delegation, which included Mission and Zaalbar, the later of whom had Bacca’s Blade strapped to his back. Mission immediately rushed forward, wrapping her arms briefly around him in a tight hug before rushing off toward the ship, offering him a small, shy smile as she left. 

“Walk with my son and I, Outsider Jaylen?” Freyr asked, motioning to Zaalbar, who reached out momentarily to place his hand on Cass’ shoulder. 

Nodding quietly, he followed both of them into the night, stopping on a wall lit part of the path, a small balcony that looked out over the ocean of trees. Cass leaned out over the railing, the two Wookies at his back, Zaalbar standing with his arms crossed over his chest, Freyr with his hands clasped behind his back. For a long moment, the three of them were quiet, taking in the night sounds, until finally, Freyr spoke. 

“There is much work to be done here, once you leave.” The old Wookie heaved a sigh. “But thanks to you, we have a chance to start over. You will always be welcome here, you and your crew… Unfortunately, we have to ask that you spread the word that access to our world is restricted to others, for the time being.” 

“I understand. I’ll inform the Jedi Council. They’ll be better at getting the information to the right hands than me,” Cass replied, offering Freyr a smile. “And I wish you…” He was going to say luck, but he stopped himself. “The Force will be with you,” he said instead. “Always.” 

“Thank you,” Freyr said with a bow, his dark eyes lighting on his son, who had once again placed his hand on Cass’ shoulder, drawing his attention. 

“One day I will return here,” Zaalbar began. “But for now, I feel compelled to continue on my journey with you. It seems I owe you another debt I can’t pay.” 

Cass smiled up into Zaalbar’s face before looking back out over the trees. “I’m glad to have you along, and I’m glad you’re okay. For a while there, I have to admit I wasn’t really sure what would happen. The forest was messing with me.” 

“It does that to everyone who dares venture within,” Freyr said, Zaalbar vocalizing in agreement. “You are stronger for having come out alive. Many do not.” 

Cass briefly wondered about Jolee and why he hadn’t seemed to be affected, but quickly dismissed the thought. He didn’t know what Bindo had faced alone in the woods. Maybe he would never know. 

“The Force has always been strong with me,” Cass said. “Maybe I made it out because I was meant to. I have the feeling I’m going to do something important.” 

“You already have, my friend,” Zaalbar said before the three of them lapsed into companionable silence. “You already have.” 


	20. Part Two; Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time as we wind down the last part of Part Two and move on to the beginning of Part Three next chapter. 
> 
> This chapter is mostly just character interaction. Things should pick up again with Manaan in Chapter Twenty-One. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Dantooine felt different the second time around. 

He didn’t know if he was more in tune with the Force, but this time he could feel all the elements of the planet singing in harmony and could tell exactly why such a pastoral place had been chosen as a home for a Jedi Enclave. 

Everyone seemed to relax the moment the Hawk set down here and Carth began to see to its refueling. The crew went their separate ways, Canderous taking Mission and Zaalbar out to one of the settlements -- probably for drinks and food -- while Carth and the droids stayed with the ship. He suspected HK was more interested in the arms dealer in the area, but since Carth controlled their group’s purse as he was the one making most of the purchases for the Hawk, he’d let Carth decide what to do about  _ that _ specific problem. 

The Jedi seemed to go their separate ways, leaving Cass with his first true time alone in a long time. He used it to walk the area around the Enclave, to take in the quiet, appreciating how it seemed to extended to his own mind. Here, the darkness and oppression of the Shadowlands and the trance of Tatooine felt eons ago, and maybe they were, mentally. 

He’d arrived on Tatooine feeling like a smuggler and left Kashyyyk feeling like the Jedi he’d sworn he’d never be. 

“I thought I might find you wandering the grounds.”

Cass turned around, watching Juhani walk toward him, her hands on her hips, a smile on her lips, saber swinging from her belt. “What can I say,” he said with a shrug. “I’m a restless soul. I always have to be doing something or I feel like I’m not doing nearly enough.” 

She laughed softly and jumped over toward him, landing silently on both of her feet. “I understand the feeling. Perhaps that is why it was so easy for me to teach you to connect with animals -- We come from a similar place, in that regard.” She paused, tilting her head as she looked up into his face. “Do you mind if I join you on your walk?” 

“Be my guest,” he said, motioning vaguely with his hands. “I could use the company.” 

They set out together, making their rounds around the grounds of the Jedi Enclave, neither saying anything for a long time. It was nice to be with someone who wasn’t trying to interrogate him or spy on him, someone who seemed to just want to be by him. Not to say she didn’t have ulterior motive, but… 

Her motive wasn’t to spy on him or to weigh his actions against some invisible metric. 

It was restful to be near her. 

“I wanted to thank you,” Juhani said as they watched. “You did not have to risk yourself for the Wookies. It would have been easier to abandon them to the Czerka Corporation, but you did not. It… It reminds me of the Jedi who liberated Taris.” 

Cass paused, stopping to look at her for a moment, the wind rustling both of their robes, the grass of the farmland beyond them swaying slowly in that same breeze. She stared out at the horizon, her expression stirring something inside of him, an image of Taris… Rows of refugee aliens from Surjaa huddled in the Lower City, himself among them, handing out ration packs he’d taken from a Mandalorian supply chain. 

It was odd that he hadn’t remembered it until now, but he could see it in his mind’s eye as clear as day, people packed into small areas like fish in a can, dirty and huddled. 

“I ran supplies to Taris back during the war,” Cass told her quietly, staring out at rolling hills. “I think the Republic had trouble getting them past the Mandalorian blockade.” 

“Many of those people were enslaved to the Exchange,” Juhani said, her voice as soft as the landscape, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear it over the wind and the flap of a Thranta’s wings overhead. “Including myself.” 

Juhani’s words were heavy ones, and he looked toward her, finding her already staring at him with an intense expression on her face. “At first I did not know how to feel about you, Cassus. You were the man who destroyed the world that I considered my home… But... “ She took a breath, crossing her arms firmly over her chest as she looked toward the clear, blue sky. “Seeing you defend the Wookies… I know you would have saved my home if you could.” 

She was quiet for a moment, her laughter breaking the silence, a sound not quite jolly, but not really bitter, either. “But perhaps it is wrong of me to feel this attachment. I am a Jedi, after all.”

Quietly, Cass sunk onto a nearby bench, turning his back on the rest of Dantooine to stare up at the Enclave, instead. “It’s not very much like the Temple, isn’t it?” he asked, and then laughed. “Not that I’ve ever been to the Temple. I’m not really much of a Jedi at all.” 

“That’s right,” Juhani said as she joined him. “You would have only seen the Temple on Coruscant from a distance. It is beautiful… Tall and white. It looks down on the rest of the city from the top of a mountain and has the largest archive of holodisks in the galaxy.” 

“So I’ve heard,” Cass replied. “The retreat of the Order, one I only belong to because I’ve been selected by the Force.” 

He held up one of his hands, examining it, looking at the small, brown hairs dusting the back of his hands, almost invisible against skin still tanned by the Tatooine suns. Flexing his fingers, he looked up at the dome of the Enclave and the bleached white walls, brow furrowing. “I didn’t used to believe it, you know.”

“That you were chosen?” Juhani asked. 

“That I could use the Force. That I was anything special at all,” he replied, leaning forward, staring at the greyish white paved pathway beneath their feet. “I’m used to the cold depths of space, to the feeling of a blaster or a vibroblade in my hand. This is still so odd. I only feel like I’m here because they need me, but with the Force itself…” He smiled, running one of his hands over his face. “I feel more comfortable with that now. It feels like home when Deralia never did.” 

She nodded and smiled at him, reaching out to place a hand on his arm, the quiet of the moment deepening. “I know how you feel. The Force gives me a purpose and it binds me together with others who share that. I could have been anything… A criminal, a smuggler… But now I am a Jedi.” 

“I thought I would leave after this was all over, but now I’m not so sure,” Cass confessed, offering her a lopsided smile, which she returned. “I want to stay. I want to make a difference. If I were to go back to being a smuggler now, I think I’d just feel colder knowing that I left all this behind.” 

“Then do not go,” Juhani said. “It seems neither of us really has a home to go back to, in any case.” 

Cass nodded in response to that before he stood, offering her his hand. She clasped it, and he pulled her to her feet, smiling as he released her hand and turned back toward the Enclave. 

“I think I need to get cleaned up,” he said as he absently stroked his beard. “Maybe have a shave. I look like Hoth warmed over.” 

Juhani chuckled and shook her head, offering him a smile that bordered on mischevious. “I could not say how appealing you look… But I am sure Bastila will notice the difference.”  

Cass froze, staring at her with wide, dark eyes, mouth falling open slightly. 

She laughed, presumably at his expression, slowly shook her head, and walked to his side. “Be careful, my friend, and mindful of your emotions. The Jedi Council will not approve.” 

“I… Uh…” Cass laughed weakly and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at her. “I will.” 

Offering him one more smile, she walked back toward the Enclave, leaving him alone with his thoughts for a moment. Dantooine was still peaceful around him, but his face burned with the thought that someone had picked up on what he had only just realized himself not too long ago -- Bastila, the thought of her, somehow, made him feel… He didn’t know. Not weak or breathless like it was always described in the holodramas, but  _ different _ . 

He wanted… To know her, better than he knew her now. 

Dropping his hands to his side and taking a deep breath, he pushed those thoughts from his mind. 

Though the thought of Bastila liking the way he looked stirred something in him, that didn’t change the fact that he really did need to use the ‘fresher, at least to shave, but for certain to shower. If the Hawk was going to get resupplied, he might as well make sure he freshened up as well, especially if they were going to Manaan, where he suspected it was to be politics more than combat. 

It didn’t take Cass long to find where he was going, and before long, he was changing into a new set of robes, face bare for the first time in literal weeks. Absently walking toward the gardens at the Enclave’s heart, hand still stroking his face, he sat on the side of the fountain and watched the Jedi bustle all about him for what seemed like hours, though time didn’t move gratingly. 

He was still sitting there when someone sat beside him, the sun setting, turning the water in the fountain orange. 

“It’s been quite some time since we last saw one another, Padawan Jaylen. Are you preparing to leave in the morning?” 

Cass glanced to his left, looking into the face of Master Dorak, his expression patient, though he was staring out at the rest of the garden. Shifting his weight, Cass ran his fingers through his now much shorter hair and offered the old Master a small smile and nod. “Hopefully. It depends on how drunk my crew is when they come back from the settlement.” Cass knew that statement wasn’t necessarily something the Jedi would approve of, but rather that than make up some lie. 

To his surprise, the old Jedi laughed softly and nodded. “Such is the way of the rest of the world. It still seems strange to me sometimes, but I grew up within the Order. I’ve never known anything else. I’m sure the Jedi must look just as strange to them.” 

“The Jedi look dangerous to people on the outside,” Cass replied, thinking about Coruscant, about how he’d been not so long ago. “I speak from personal experience when I say not a lot of normal people like or trust your Order any longer. Most of us think you abandoned us during the Mandalorian Wars.” 

Master Dorak was quiet for a moment before he sighed. “You sound a bit like one of the students who used to study here at the Enclave,” he smiled sadly, thinly. “Her name was Meetra Surik. She followed Revan off to the war, eventually, because it bothered her that people could see the Jedi as negligent.” 

Meetra… 

Cass rand his hand over his face, the name stirring something in him, emotions that he was certain couldn’t belong to him. Sadness… Regret… A nostalgic longing to see her again when he didn’t even know her face. Maybe it was Revan, he thought, clutching absently at the front of his robe. “What happened to her?”

“She returned to the Order to answer for what she and her companions had done during the Wars and was banished as a result of her actions,” Master Dorak replied, his face growing sad enough that Cass didn’t need to feel his emotions to know what he was thinking. “They all trained here, at one time or another.”

“Revan trained here?” Cass found himself asking, Master Dorak’s solemnity warping the sound of the water as it fell, making it sound hollow and lonely. 

“Yes. I knew him when he was still a young man, before he was ever called Revan,” the old man folded his hands in his lap. “I knew him when he was a bright eyed student. The others will tell you something different, perhaps, but I sensed no darkness in him, then. I still wonder if we did the right thing by refusing to fight the Mandalorians.” 

Cass fell silent for a long moment, rubbing the callouses on his fingers, his brow furrowing. “I still blame the Jedi for that,” he admitted. “So many worlds were destroyed because the Jedi didn’t intervene. I understand better now  why you wouldn’t have, with your belief in patience, but I still can’t imagine any scenario where leaving those people didn’t violate every oath a Jedi takes to defend innocents.” 

Dorak sighed softly. “I understand. Revan told us much the same, back when he was a member of our Order. Back when he was still known as Jorren Ollus, before all the titles and accolades and infamy that came with his journey toward the Dark Side.” 

Jorren… The name sounded familiar, and Cass wondered briefly if maybe he had met Revan before the man had fallen, if maybe they had more connection than he’d initially thought. He would have thought he’d remember someone like that, but even Carth didn’t know what Revan had looked like, so maybe… 

Maybe it was possible. 

“It’s good to know not everyone here hates him,” Cass muttered. “I was starting to worry. I’ve never heard anything about the man he was before he left for the Mandalorian Wars.” 

“An idealist,” Dorak said. “I think that Vrook would call him arrogant, but I’m not sure that’s the right description. Naive, perhaps, very strong willed… Passionate. Not the best trait for a Jedi, but I must admit no one really gave him guidance, not even when we knew we should.” 

Cass waited, watching as the man closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face, sighing deeply. “The truth is, I worry that the Order failed Revan. There’s more to this situation than we like to pretend.” 

Cass looked at Dorak, considering what he said before he ran his hands slowly through his hair. Slowly, he opened and closed his mouth, and then reached out and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “If Revan were still alive… I think he would appreciate that.” 

Master Dorak offered him a small smile. “It seems you’ve grown wiser,” he said. “I’d like to think that Revan, wherever he is, has found peace. It’s better than the alternative.” 

Slowly, he stood up, bowing before Cass. “I believe you have company,” he said softly, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll leave you and your young Master to converse in peace.” 

Glancing over toward the other entrance of the garden, Cass saw Bastila hovering, looking uncertain. When he looked back toward Master Dorak, the man was already leaving, walking back into the darkening corridors of the Jedi Enclave. 

Turning back toward Bastila, he found her walking toward him, her emotions a quagmire of uncertainty. He could feel them, all of them, her anxiety, her fear, her… Her excitement to see him. She was… Shy? 

His eyes widened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, not really sure how to feel. 

“Bastila,” he managed, releasing a breath, her pale eyes flickering up to meet his face uncertainty. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but I wasn’t really expecting the pleasure of your company.” 

“You wanted to talk to me?” she asked, rubbing her arms as a chill breeze rustled the plants around them. 

“I suppose I said I did,” Cass replied, heading back to the side of the fountain and sinking down on it. “Truth be told, I worked out most of it on my own. It was the Shadowlands driving me mad. I kept hearing Revan’s voice in my head.” 

She nodded, hesitated for a moment, and then sat beside him. “I am not surprised,” Bastila said softly. “I’m starting to realize how much stronger you are than I ever could have dreamed. The truth is, I’m afraid the Jedi Council has made a mistake.” 

“A mistake?” he asked her, letting himself feel concern, deciding not to mask it from her. 

Her eyes widened, and her face turned a shade of red he had never seen on her before. Cass could sense her shock, and reached out to cover her small hand with his own, watching her eyes widen and blush deepen. 

It was better than watching her flush because she was annoyed with him --  _ Much _ better.  

“You’re such a good man,” she said, stubbornly refusing to look at his face. “So good at resisting temptation, and here I am… Struggling with these feelings that I have to be the one to destroy Malak, that it’s my destiny to do so, and that I have a responsibility to destroy all evil in the Galaxy.” 

Quietly, he coaxed her hand over, lacing their fingers together as she avoided his eyes more intensely out of embarrassment. “I’ve felt that way, too, Bastila. I’m hardly perfect.” 

“Does it nag at you constantly?” She asked, looking up into his face with quiet intensity. “I constantly feel the pressure. I can’t help you anymore. I’m… I’m afraid I’ll drag you down toward the Dark Side.” 

“Drag me toward the Dark Side?” He furrowed his brow. “Bastila--”

“I’m already doing it,” she protested, holding up their conjoined hands. “Look at this. We’re already… I…”

He watched their hands for a moment, and reached out to cup her hand, instead, holding it in both of his. Bastila was so much smaller than him, it suddenly struck him, and much younger, something that filled him with  a sense of shame he pushed away when he saw the way her face wavered in response to his emotions. 

“Does it feel wrong?” he asked, keeping his voice low, paying careful attention to her emotions -- her spike of excitement, more uncertainty, a general sense of unpreparedness. 

“Don’t ask me that,” Bastila said with a trembling voice. “The Code says this is wrong, but you’re…” She bowed her head, but didn’t pull her hand away. “I… You have no idea the effect you have on me. You’re so passionate, I find myself constantly caught in you. It’s terrifying… But exhilarating. You make me feel alive.”

She pulled her hand away and he felt his heart sink, though he thought he already knew what she was going to say. It didn’t help his chest from growing tight as he dropped his eyes to stare at the ground instead. 

This… had been a bad idea.

He really hadn’t thought this through.

Stupid,  _ stupid  _ Cassus. 

“But we are Jedi. We both took oaths. I know this might be quite the adjustment for you…” he heard her intake of breath. “But you must not give in to your passions. We cannot form that sort of attachment.” 

Looking up, he ran his hands through his hair, and took a deep breath as he looked up at the sky. “But you’re saying you feel something for me?” 

“Cassus,” she hissed through her teeth. “Did you not hear a thing that I said?” 

“I heard you,” he replied, “but I don’t think it’s healthy to deny what we’re feeling. I respect that you don’t want to act on it… But any emotion can fester and eat you up inside if you let it.” 

Surprise flickered across her features and she quickly stood, brushing a strand of flyaway hair from her face. Staring at him for only a moment, she quickly turned away from him, crossing her arms uncomfortably over her chest, trying to block him from her emotions. “We’ll speak tomorrow,” she said calmly. “Sleep well, Cassus.” 

He opened his mouth, trying to find the words to say, but knew that whatever he said would fall on deaf ears. Instead, he sat and stared at his hands for a long moment, watching the shadows of the trees grow longer as the sun set and the moon rose high over head. 

Tonight, he’d let himself be bothered by this rejection, but tomorrow he’d move forward as best he could with their mission. Manaan waited, and with it, another dream of Revan, something he wasn’t really looking forward to. 

Finally, thoughts more or less gathered, he stood, taking a deep breath as he decided to head back toward the Hawk to see how drunk Canderous had managed to get. 

Call it instinct, but something told him this thing with Bastila wasn’t over. 

Not by a long shot. 


	21. Part Three; Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good bits of news. 
> 
> First of all, this story has well breached 100 K words, which is a pretty big accomplishment. We've finally reached what's probably around the half way point of the story, or close to.
> 
> The other good bit of news is that there's only about five or so chapters left in my outline until the Leviathan. 
> 
> Cass will be leaving us soon. 
> 
> I can finally stop having to look for all those typos.

Revan tapped the side of his helmet, not the usual one, but a diving helmet. 

He couldn’t see inside it, though, heavily shadowed through the murky water around them, though Cass couldn’t help but feel that it was deliberate. Revan, instead, seemed to fiddle with something, until static and a high pitch whining filled his ears and he called out in shock and pain. It only lasted for a moment, but damn, that had hurt!

“Relax,” came the deep voice through the speaker. “You’re pretty jumpy, for a Jedi.” 

“Are we… underwater?” Cass asked, looking around, moving through the ocean, annoyed at the resistance. “Do you mean to tell me that the Star Map is at the bottom of the ocean?” 

“Look at it this way, jaybird,” Revan said with a shrug, motioning toward the glowing machine across a ravine connected to the main landmass by nothing more than an unstable looking kolto pipeline. “There’s no need for me to bait Krayt Dragons or reprogram ancient machines if the Star Map is literally protected by the crushing ocean depths.” 

“Wow,” Cass muttered blandly. “How reassuring.” 

Revan laughed, the sound coming from his chest, filling Cass’ diving helmet. “I’d hope so. All you have to do is find your way to the ocean floor -- I suggest trying to make friends with the Selkath. I think you’ll learn people are just as useful when you appease them as when you threaten them.” 

Cass sighed and rubbed the back of his helmet. “So now you’re a merciful Dark Lord, Revan?” 

“I’ve always been the merciful one,” Revan replied, jumping across the sea floor toward him, face still obscured in darkness, even this close. “In reality, it’s practicality. It’s pointless to cause pain to others without cause, and is a sign of a weak mind. If you can negotiate terms and do things in a subtle manner, you’re far better off…” The Dark Lord looked off into the depths of the ocean, and Cass followed his gaze, watching the Firaxan Sharks swim about them. “But you already know that, don’t you?” 

Cass sighed, not really having the energy to argue any longer, crossing his arms over his chest. “That negotiation is preferable to combat?” 

“That subtlety is a useful tool.” 

He snorted, and the Dark Lord’s attention snapped to him, cold as it always was, but still not as cold as in the memories of the bridge. The memory of the time Revan had killed him there still sent shivers through his body -- phantom tremors that sometimes made it difficult for him to sleep. “You’re about as subtle as a Togruta’s skin.” 

“Ah, but that’s the trick, isn’t it? If people think you’re incapable of being subtle, it masks your activities even better. You’re good at lying, Cass, especially to yourself.” The man shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back out to the swirling depths. “You’d have to be to pretend not to notice all the lies people are telling you.” 

That gave Cass pause and he sighed. If he could have, he would have pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated, but he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled through his mouth and rolled his shoulders. “It doesn’t seem like a good idea to bring up any potential connection to you when we have to worry about Malak tracking us halfway across the galaxy.” 

Revan laughed once again, shaking his head slowly from side to side as he laced his fingers together behind his back. “Are you worried she’d reject you if you confronted her about it?”

White hot shock traveled across Cass’ nerves, his back going rigid as he snapped his attention toward Revan, who he could sense grinning wickedly even from behind the tinted glass of his helmet. “How…?”

“I told you to be careful around here, and now here you are,” Revan snorted. “Your infatuation really could cost you everything unless you try to drag her down with you. I understand if you want to cultivate that particular vein of raw passion.” 

‘You keep talking like I’m going to Fall,” Cass muttered, refusing to rise to take his bait about Bastila. “That it’s only a matter of time.” 

“Aren’t you?” Revan replied. “Don’t you know that attachments lead to the Dark Side? That’s what happened to me -- I cared too much, so much that I compromised my Jedi Beliefs to save everyone. It was incredibly effective.” 

Cass said nothing, still staring out into the murky depths of the ocean. 

He wasn’t sure how to reconcile the image of Revan Dorak had given him with the image of Revan that he’d pieced together from his visions and the accounts of others.  How could someone who had once given so much for the Galaxy turn so… Cold. 

“You don’t believe me?”

“I do,” Cass replied. “I think that’s the problem. I don’t understand how you can justify any of it.”

Revan laughed again and shook his head from side to side. The laughter itself was jolly, as if Cass had just told the best joke the Dark Lord had ever heard in his entire life. “Really? The man who told himself it was okay to kill the defenseless Sith Governor rather than spare him is questioning how I can justify what I’ve done? Open your eyes, Jaybird. We’re not so different. You’re just not willing to take the necessary risks.” 

“Some things aren’t worth risking,” Cass replied adamantly. “Like the lives of innocent people.”

“No one is innocent,” Revan said, his voice distant as the dream began to crumble around them. “You’ll find that out soon enough.” 

Without any drama or pretense, Cass found himself waking on the Ebon Hawk, swinging his legs over the side of the bunk and walking out into the bulk of the ship. It was quiet, likely because almost everyone was asleep, just the sounds of the ship around him -- the hum of the hyperdrive and the sounds the droids made as they moved about the ship. 

Sitting down at the Dejarik table, Cass glanced toward HK-47, who had just walked into the room and was staring at him with glowing yellow eyes. “Observation: You’re up early, master.”

“Bad dream,” Cass replied, running his hand over his face. 

“Sincere Response: I’m quite relieved that I can’t have dreams, master. It sounds like a failing of meatbag psychology.” 

Cass laughed quietly, shaking his head from side to side, offering the droid a weary smile. “I think my nightmares are a bit worse than other people’s, but you're probably right. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.” 

HK didn’t respond, but Cass quickly realized it was because Carth was standing at the entrance to the common room, arms crossed over his chest, T3 at his ankles. “Hey,” Cass greeted with a small salute. “Haven’t talked to you in awhile, Captain.” 

“Sorry about that,” Carth said as he sank into the chair opposite of Cass. “I’ve been stuck on the ship, and you’ve been busy. Which… reminds me. I’m going a bit stir crazy. Cancerous or Juhani can handle the Hawk if something bad happens, and if they can’t T3 can.” He reached out and placed his hand on top of the ‘mech’s head, the droid whistling low in satisfaction. “He’s a good Droid.” 

Cass looked at T3 and smiled, dark eyes flickering back to Carth a moment later. “Sure. It might help to have you on this planet, anyway. I’ve been doing some reading about it, and it’s a neutral world where the Republic and the Empire both have an Embassy.” 

Carth made a face. “Politics,” he said, and then sighed heavily. “Well, I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. You have much of a reputation around these parts?” 

“No, not really. Manaan is too civilized and too close to the Core Worlds,” he said with a small smile. “I’m known in Hutt Space more than anywhere else. We should be fine, especially since…” he motioned toward his lightsaber. “Jedi.” 

Carth looked at the saber on his waist for a moment, and then back up into his eyes. “Listen… I have something important to talk to you about.” 

Cass leaned back in his chair slightly, searching Carth’s expression. Solemn, sad, worried, the sorts of feelings that lead him to think Carth was about to talk about his family, or something about the Sith or the War. It reminded him a lot of the way Carth had been in the early days, back on Taris. 

“Shoot, Carth. You know you can tell me anything.” 

Carth ran his hand over the stubble on his chin and sighed deeply. “On Dantooine I ran into an old friend from the fleet. He’s taken a job on a freighter and he told me that last time he did a drop on Korriban and he saw…” His hand reached up and he rubbed it over his eyes. “He saw Dustil. My son. My son is with the Sith.” 

All was silent for a long moment before Cass stood, chair creaking underneath him as he reached out and placed his hand on Carth’s shoulder. Quietly, he squeezed the other man’s shoulder, Carth’s eyes meeting his as the man took a deep breath. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you, Carth. Korriban is the next stop, and I promise we’ll do what we can to extract him from the Academy.”

Carth stared up at him and then smiled and nodded. “You’re… I don’t really know that I deserve a friend like you.” 

“We don’t have to deserve our friends,” Cass said as he pulled away, the ships systems beeping as they started to drop out of hyperspace. “Better get back to the cockpit and bring her in, then suit up and get ready to go. I’m going to grab Bindo and Bastila.” 

“I’ll bring her in,” Carth said, standing and rushing back to the cockpit, T3 hot on his heels, beeping something about going to help with the stabilizers. 

“Quiet Observation: You are quite kind, master. I suggest you be careful lest it turn into a weakness.” 

“You sound like someone else I know,” Cass said. “Thanks, HK, but I can handle myself.” 

“Wise Response: Your friend must be a very smart man, master, though I must admit I have no doubt you can handle yourself, having seen you in combat.” 

“Thanks,” Cass said genuinely. “Coming from you, that means a lot.” 

If HK was going to respond, he didn’t get a chance to when Canderous lumbered into sight and Bastila and Juhani appeared from the women’s quarters. “We’re getting ready to land,” he told them. “Best strap in if you don’t have your space legs, yet.” 

Canderous snorted and didn’t strap in as the crew gathered for a landing much smoother than it had been in the nearly nonexistent and subpar facilities on Kashyyyk and Dantooine. Of course, Manaan was a civilized world… One the’d have to register to be on once they landed, he supposed. 

After doling out duties, Cass and his party left the ship, the air smelling strongly of brine. It reminded him of places he’d been before he'd ended up on the Endar Spire… An odd sensation, and one he had missed a great deal. 

Momentarily revitalized, he looked out over the perfect, pristine spaceport, and then up into the cloudless blue sky, an odd sense of deja vu pricking at the hairs on the back of his neck. He’d never been to Manaan before, though Selkath was one of the languages he could understand as there were a few of them who worked in the smuggling business. The feeling might just be an offshoot of his nostalgia, he thought, striding across the metal tiles that spanned the ground toward the large doors at the other side of the room, footsteps echoing. 

“So, what’s our plan of attack?” Carth asked. “Do we know where we’re going to find this thing?” 

“I have an idea,” Cass admitted. “But it’s going to be hard to get to. For now, I just want to get into Ahto City and get set up. Considering we have to go to the bottom of the ocean to find it, it might take awhile to figure out how to get down there, or to even get the Selkath to let us go.” 

“At the bottom of the…” Carth sighed heavily, Jolee chuckling softly at his frustration. “You have to be kidding me.” 

“I wish I could say he was,” Bastila replied before Cass could. “Unfortunately, I share his dreams. I can tell you that he is absolutely serious.” 

Cass paused at that, remembering once when she had scolded him for assuming they  _ were _ his dreams, but decided that it wasn’t best to press her, considering their last exchange. “We’ll find a way. The Force has provided thus far. I see no reason to doubt it now.” 

Funny how the little things changed, he found himself thinking as the doors to the greater spaceport slid open, months ago he never would have thought something like that. The moment he’d surrendered himself up to the Force on Taris during the Swoop Race had changed everything, even if he’d been dragged into it kicking and screaming at the time. 

The Force worked in mysterious ways.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of loud bickering coming from the other side where he immediately saw to military officers going at it. Cass wasn’t really sure what they were saying, and only had enough time to process that their uniforms were different before both of the men were looking at him. 

And it was him they were staring at, too, considering the way their heads both tilted upward. 

“Jedi,” said the first man, gesturing toward the second, his uniform the dark grey of the Sith. “Perhaps you can tell your subordinate here that he needs to behave in a manner befitting of his station. There is a ceasefire here, one  _ he _ and _ his _ ilk need to learn to respect.” 

“He was antagonizing me, sir!” The officer responded, looking toward Cass with pleading eyes. “The Sith do nothing but antagonize us day in and day out!” 

“Captain Onasi,” Cass said, glancing over his shoulder toward the man, who was already looking at the Republic soldier with a disapproving stare. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it a soldier’s duty not to respond to taunting? Especially in a delicate diplomatic situation where misbehavior could endanger Republic interests.” 

“You’re absolutely right,” Carth said, crossing his arms over his chest, dark eyes still holding the man in place. “You have a duty, soldier. I don’t care what the Sith are saying or how despicable they are, everyone knows that the Selkath provide us with kolto. Your behavior reflects upon us while we’re at the mercy of the Selkath. We follow their laws, even if the Sith try to find a way around them.” 

The man looked dejected for a moment, but quickly straightened, saluting the both of them. “Of course, Captain.” His eyes flickered back toward Cass, “Master Jedi.” 

“Yes, Master Jedi,” the Sith replied with a stiff, sarcastic bow, his brow furrowing momentarily in confusion, as if he hadn’t quite expected this. “Thank you. Perhaps with your shining example, this rabble will finally behave. Now, if you excuse me, I have business to attend to at the Embassy.” 

Cass watched him go, instinct tingling at the back of his neck, not completely sure why until he remembered that Malak was still looking for them. In fact, it suddenly seemed vital to keep his vigil against Malak, against the Sith, whose threat had seemed distant until just this moment. 

“Would you like me to tell the Embassy you’re visiting, Captain Onasi?” The young officer asked as Carth glanced to Cass for direction. 

Cass nodded, and Carth gave the young man his affirmation. “Yes, lieutenant. Tell them to expect me and the three Jedi I’m traveling with. We just have a few errands to run in the city first.” 

The lieutenant saluted and then turned to leave,the group watching him go. 

“You pick up on want I picked up on, Fearless Leader?” Bindo asked, stepping forward to better watch the soldier’s shape recede into the distance. “Sounds like the Republic isn’t the only one who’s going to know we’re here.” 

“Not even Malak would attack Manaan,” Bastila protested. “He needs the resources for his soldiers, and the Sith Empire has not conquered enough of Republic space to make a move on the neutral worlds yet.” 

“It’s only a matter of time,” Carth said, crossing his arms over his chest, looking between Bastila and Bindo, his brows furrowed. “I’ve heard rumors they plan to take Duros next.” 

“It doesn’t matter what world they plan to take next,” Cass replied distractedly. “What matters is the Star Forge. Regardless, we should be safe as long as we stick to Ahto City. Bastila is right -- They’re not stupid enough to attack us in the open here. Harass us, maybe, but not attack.” 

“So what next?” Carth asked. “We could head to the Embassy after we get checked in.”

“The Republic is clearly biased in this situation,” Cass replied. “And besides, as much as they would like to say they trust the Jedi, I think we both know that’s not really true. You were on the Spire, too. You heard everyone complaining about Bastila and her people’s new orders.” 

Bastila made a face, but said nothing while Bindo simply snorted in amusement. 

Carth only sighed. “Yeah. I guess you have a point there. Not that I really  _ like _ that you have a point. So what’s your alternative?” 

“The good old standby of smugglers and scoundrels across the galaxy, Captain,” Cass said, flashing a wide and toothy grin. “We go to the cantina and eavesdrop.” 

Cath sighed again, this time more heavily, rubbing his fingers over his forehead. “Somehow, I had a feeling you were going to say that. Okay,” he said, resigned. “Work your magic, Cassus. Get us the information we need.” 

Cass said nothing, walking down the hallway toward visitor processing, a smile still on his face. 

* * *

The cantina they found on Ahto City that served outworlders was nicer than any cantina Cass had to in the past few months. It was cleaner than Jayvar’s in the Lower City, and more less ramshackle than the cantina on Tatooine. There was a tension, though, that was inescapable, tension that radiated from every corner, apparent in the clear segregation between the groups taking their early evening drinks.

Cass sat down in between a Sith and a pair of Selkath, one a brownish color, the other dark grey, both nursing glowing drinks in their large flippers. The Sith glanced at him curiously, frowned sharply, and then snorted, staring back into her porter. He didn’t estimate that she was much of a threat, considering that she looked unstable even stationary -- He honestly doubted she would remember him, blitzed as she was. 

Bindo, Carth, and Bastila were sitting nearer the entrance, Carth hissing at Bastila every time she stared at him for too long. He was amused, and so was Bindo, who Cass could see smiling smugly out of the corner of his eye. 

At least someone was getting some enjoyment out of it, because Carth sure wasn’t. 

Motioning quietly to the Selkath bartender, dressed in the red jacket he hadn’t worn in over a month, he ordered a drink and pressed it to his lips. Keeping his head down, he listened to the conversation swelling around him, Huttese and Basic and Selkath, their speech hardly harmonious. Still, with enough concentration, he was able to pick out a few interesting threads of conversation, shockingly the most interesting conversation the one the two gentleman Selkath where having next to him. 

“Maybe she ran away, went off world?” the brown Selkath asked the grey consolingly. 

“I know my daughter,” protested the other, voice hissing like boiling water. “Sahsa would never run from home. She wanted to study to be a Magister! I’m telling you, she was taken!” He slammed his drink down on the counter, visibly shaking, something Cass could see even out of the corner of his eye. “She was taken by the Sith.” 

The other sighed, placing his massive hand on his friend’s back. “What reason would either the Sith or the Republic have to take her? They can’t use her to get more kolto, and we both know that’s the only thing these outsiders care about.” His eyestalks briefly flickered toward Cass. “Or making a quick credit by selling themselves for labor.” 

“I don’t know,” the grieving father exhaled. “I don’t know. It could be…” he dropped his voice, bracing both of his hands on the counter. “Her powers. They could want her for her powers. You know she’s not the only young one who’s disappeared.” 

The other made a long, displeased noise as Cass took another sip of his drink, adjusting himself in his seat. “This is a job for Ahto City officials, if that’s the case. There’s nothing you can do for her, especially if you sit here drinking away your pain as if she’s already dead. Stop. Go back home. I’m sure your Bonded misses you.” 

The man garggled a sigh, and pushed himself up. “I’m desperate. I… I don’t know what to do.”

“For now? Rest,” said his friend as he tossed a handful of credits onto the counter, the bartender nodding at them both. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” 

Cass watched them leave from the corner of his eye, taking another drink, reaching for the credit pouch on his belt and frowning. This wasn’t going to last much longer, the last of the pazaak money going down the drain for drinks to make him look inconspicuous… He huffed, freezing when he felt a presence behind his back, turning around to find another Selkath staring into his face from slightly to his side. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asked. 

Jamming his hands deep into his pockets, watching the man’s eyes flicker to the lightsaber still at his side and then back into Cass’ face, he nodded. “I do, actually,” he replied in basic. “What’s it to you…. Stranger?” 

“Are you for hire? I have a task for you, but I’ll only discuss it if you agree to take the job.” 

Cass arched his eyebrows high and exhaled slowly. “I’m guessing you saw the state of my purse so you know I can’t really say no. Me and my crew came here looking for work, anyway.” 

The Selkath seemed to perk up, and held out a large, blue hand to wave him toward a small table in the corner of the room. Cass followed, hands still jabbed deep in his pockets, aware of the many eyes following after him, including an Iridonian in a full suit of armor and an Echani. 

Odd, Cass realized, for them to be here. He’d taken advantage of it as soon as he’d noticed the number of mercenaries here, but why  _ were _ they here? The question of the hour, it seemed. Slipping into the chair across from the Selkath, Cass finally extricated his hands from his pockets, falling effortlessly back into the casual-yet-deadly posture of an experienced smuggler. 

“This job… Does it pay well?” 

The Selkath nodded. “I’m a concerned citizen of Ahto City curious about the actions of the Republic. If you’re here, you must know that they’re hiring mercenaries. Maybe you came here to make some credits. I just want you to get hired by them and tell me what exactly they’re doing. I’d say this is a pretty good deal for you,” he said with a small nod of his head as he brought one hand up toward his face. “You get paid twice.” 

“A pretty compelling deal,” Cass admitted, staring off into the distance. “And pretty generous, Mr. Concerned Citizen.” He paused, his eyes trailing back over to the Selkath’s  face. “You’re not paying me to ask you questions, though. Discretion is part of what I consider to be my quality services.” Leaning across the table, Cass grinned. “You’ve got yourself a deal. I suspect it’s payment upon completion?” 

“You would be correct,” the man said as he rose to his feet. “They are hiring at the Embassy. You can find me here when you have the information. Just ask for Satha at the bar and he’ll call me for you.” 

“Got it. Thanks for doing business, Mister Satha.” Cass watched as the Selkath nodded his appreciation, and then vanished back through the crowd, his clothing noticeably plain. 

For a minute, Cass sat at the table and finished off his drink, his mind whirring with several thoughts at once. They were going to go to the Republic Embassy anyway, but as he thought, he realized that they could use this strange activity as a bargaining chip of some sort to get the information he wanted. Not through blackmail, but they had to be hiring mercenaries for some reason, and… Well, maybe they could use the help of a group of people with experience in doing the impossible. 

The thing that really concerned him, though, nagged at the back of his mind, was the disappearance of the Selkath children. He couldn’t help but feel that the concerned father was right, especially if it involved special “powers”. It was a prime directive of the Sith to recruit Force Sensitives into their ranks and had been since the beginning, which meant these kids could be in some sort of Dark Side brainwashing camp as he sat here finishing off his drink to complete his little act. 

The thought was chilling. 

Standing, he placed his glass back on the counter, careful not to trip over the now nearly-unconscious Sith woman in the process, and headed back to his companions. 

“Walk with me,” he said as he strode past them, watching Bastila fall into step behind him, the first to rise. 

“So, what happened? Who was that guy?” Carth immediately asked. “Where are we going?” 

“Where we were going before, just with some new information about some mercenaries our friends in the Republic are hiring,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder with a shrug and smile. “As for who that guy was, I have no idea, and I don’t really care as long as his clue pans out. Never take your prize tauntaun for granted, Captain. You’ll be sad when you dismount because it smells bad and end up stranded on Hoth.”  

“He makes a pretty compelling argument,” Bindo agreed. “You should listen to him -- This time, at least.” 

“Thanks for the glowing support, old man,” Cass replied, pausing to look at a map of the city that the Selkath were generous enough to display. “I can always trust you to have my back.” 

Bindo snorted in response. “Keep it up, whippersnapper, and I’ll go back to the ship and send you the combat droid instead.” 

“Please don’t. He’d get us kicked out and you know it,” Cass said. “The city is pretty strict about its non-violence laws, and he’s a buggy droid anyway. All kinds of holes in his memory and gaps in his programming.” He’d been messing around with HK earlier, trying to figure out where the hell he’d come from, but had recently hit a wall somewhere after his third owner -- At least he knew the assassination protocols were real. 

“Looks like it will be faster to take public transit,” he said at last. “Which is off the main square, where we are now. Shouldn’t take long to get to Ahto South.” 

Thankfully it was free. 

If they wanted to stay here while they were investigating, they couldn’t afford constant transit fees. 

On a secret mission to save the galaxy, and the Jedi couldn’t even spare them some kind of living allotment. 

He caught Bastila’s eyes as he walked past, though she quickly looked away, and he sighed heavily, running his hand through his now-short hair, aware of the way Bindo was staring at him again. Ignoring it, he thought about the feeling of Bastila’s hands in his own and walked across the courtyard to wait by the flashing holosign advertising the tram. 

He refused to think of this as a bad thing, even if a part of him was still wary of it, uncertain of the future. For the time being, though, there wasn’t much point in thinking about it if she was going to avoid him, so he pushed it from his mind … 

At least until she was ready to talk. 

Before long, they were standing outside of the Embassy, a rather unimpressive looking building made of plain, grey permacrete, accessed by an entrance ramp that went downward. On the way here, they had indeed been harassed by some Sith, and though Bastila had bristled, Cass had just brushed them off with a smile, watching them trudge away when no one had risen to their bait. 

And now here they were, descending into the dimly lit Embassy, met almost immediately by a man in the dark red and burnt orange colors of Republic officers, emerging from further within the building. “I would ask if you’re the Jedi in question, considering how you’re dressed,” he began, running his hand over his white stubble, which stood out against his dark skin, “but considering the Lieutenant described you as incredibly tall…” 

“A bit hard to hide,” Cass said with a smile and a shrug, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. “I’m here on a mission from the Jedi Council, and though I can’t disclose the details, I can tell you that I’m looking for something on the ocean floor.”

The man arched his eyebrows so that they disappeared underneath the rim of his hat, and then motioned for them all to follow. “This isn’t a safe place to discuss this, out in the open. Follow me to my office, and keep close.” 

He wondered if the paranoia was due to the presence of the Sith, an enemy whose nature made this feel more like a civil war than the last war had. A lot of the soldiers in the Imperial Army had been comrades during the fight with the Mandalorians, which made all of this more painful for the men and women of the Republic. 

What had Revan said to them, Cass wondered, to get them to abandon the Republic? 

Maybe he would ask him sometime, though he doubted he’d get a straight answer. 

They passed through the base, soldiers in orange swarming about them, going about their business. Before long, the four of them stood in the Ambassador’s office, the man’s arms clasped behind his back as he leveled them all with a serious stare. “Three Jedi and a man I recognize. I never thought I’d entertain such a party here. Primarily we negotiate for kolto with the Selkath, which is an important operation, but an oft overlooked one. You said you were here looking for something on the ocean floor?”

“An artifact, something the Jedi Council has an interest in,” said Carth, glancing toward Cass as he stepped forward. “Is there something you can do to help us?” 

“There’s a submarine here that I could let you borrow,” the Ambassador said. “Unfortunately, Captain, I’d need to ask a favor of you and the Jedi in return.” His eyes flickered toward Bindo, Bastila, and then lingered on Cass for a moment, as if he recognized him, though he seemed to shake himself of the notion. “I know you’re capable of great things.” 

“Favor?” Bastila asked. “This is--”

“It’s pressing,” Cass said, interrupting her, her blue eyes flashing in anger. “But not pressing enough that we can’t do our duty for the Republic. What do you need us to do, Ambassador?” 

The man sighed and ran a hand over his face, leaning back against his desk. Momentarily, he stared at the ceiling, thinking, though his thoughts seemed a heavy burden indeed as his shoulders slouched underneath their weight. 

“Listen, this is going to be dangerous. I couldn’t ask just anyone to do it,” he began. “Three Jedi and a famed Republic War Hero walking into my office?” He looked at Carth for a moment, and then turned his eyes back to Cass. “I’ll be honest, it’s a pretty big blessing.” 

“Cut to the chase, Ambassador,” said Bindo, arms crossed firmly over his chest. “We’re not a Sith or Selkath delegation, and as these youngsters already pointed out, we don’t have all day.” 

The old Ambassador closed his eyes and nodded. “We have a probe that collects research data about the ocean floors and works to detect seismic activity. Unfortunately, the Sith have taken it and it’s currently in their base. Our greatest fear is that they’ll tamper with the data in its memory core to make it look like we’re doing something illegal, and then bring that data forward to the Selkath. We need someone to infiltrate their Embassy and get the memory core out of that deep sea probe droid before our operations here come grinding o a halt.” He sighed. “You know how important kolto is to the war effort, Captain.”

Carth hesitated, and glanced toward Cass for direction. “I do, Ambassador, yes.” 

“If you have a way to get us into the base and promise access to your submarine, I don’t see that we have another option,” Cass admitted. “Besides, I hardly have a problem crossing the Sith.” 

He still owed Malak for Taris and the Endar Spire. 

The man arched his eyebrows again, and then glanced toward Cass’ belt, as if reminding himself that he was dealing with a Jedi. “As it happens, we do have a way of getting you into the Embassy. They have passwords that only their agents know, and we have one of their agents on hand. We just haven’t managed to extract it from him yet.” Clasping his arms behind his back, the Ambassador straightened. “I would go get some rest… And work on finding a way to stand out less. If you’re going through the front gate, you can’t look like Jedi. If you give me your comm number, I’ll call you when we crack the prisoner.” 

Though he frowned, Cass nodded and offered up his comm number, he and his group shortly being escorted from the Embassy. He chatted with Carth on their way out, giving the man the location of several cheap places they could stay and even places they could order food from, if they needed to. Cass was thankful that the man was so willing to talk to Carth, because he was quickly realizing how  _ tired _ he was. 

Revan dreams always took it out of him. 

“Why did you interrupt me?” Bastila asked -- no, demanded -- once the Ambassador had left them and they were on their way to their nightly lodging. 

Glancing toward her, he frowned sharply, staring down into her face as he leaned against the wall of the transport. “Because we didn’t have time to argue with him. I asked you on Tatooine to trust me, Bastila. Or at least, I think I did.” 

She glowered, blue eyes blazing with youthful defiance that he felt somewhat removed from at the moment. “Cassus, you can’t just cut me off. I have a right to say what I wish.” 

“Bastila,” he sighed. “Bastila, you were going to argue with him. I understand that this is urgent, but you can’t just--” Cass rubbed his face as the doors to the transport slid open and they stepped out into the open air, the scent of brine hitting him strongly once more.“Do you think about  _ anything _ before you say it? Or do you just expect everyone else to deal with the consequences of your actions?” 

He could feel her hurt, followed by her anger, and was tempted to walk away from her for a moment. If he had, though, it would have been out of spite, and he refused to let whatever this was turn into petty revenge, even if he had already resigned himself to their relationship reverting back to something what it was like in the early days. 

“I think about everything I say,” she said, breath hissing through her teeth, the embarrassed blush on his face making him feel ashamed. “Just because I have trouble saying it correctly and prefer not to play political games does not mean that I have not put thought into it!” 

“And yet you seem pretty prone to making decisions for other people. Have you learned anything since Taris?” The words came out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted the venom he’d said them with. “Kriff. I --” 

To Bastila’s credit, she looked like she had been slapped in the face, but quickly reigned in her reaction. It was probably only because they were in a public place, with both Bindo and Carth staring at them with some level of concerns etched into their expressions. The same reason he hadn’t broken down --

Stubbornness, a trait they shared. 

“Is that really what you think of me?” She asked as she stepped closer, her voice soft, a slight tremor running through it, blue eyes clear. 

“No,” he said honestly, rubbing the back of his neck and closing his eyes. “But you make me angry, Bastila, when you make decisions for me and decide what  _ I  _ should do about things _ I’m  _ feeling for my own good.” 

She opened and closed her own mouth. “This is clearly hurting you,” she replied coolly, composed in spite of the cocktail of emotions he could feel swirling inside of her. “You told me to keep you from the Dark Side and that is exactly what I’m doing!”

“What’s  _ hurting me _ is you refusing to discuss it!” He snapped back, hiding nothing from her. “I respect whatever decision you make, but damnit, Bastila, don’t shut me out!” 

She blinked up at him for a moment, jaw hanging open, before she took a deep breath and resolved to stay her course. He could see the working parts moving in her mind, knew a moment before she spoke that she was going to change the subject. 

“We should stop making a scene in the open.” 

“Fine,” he replied, feeling himself deflate again, growing tired. 

Someday he’d get her to face it. 

Someday they’d resolve their issues. 

He would just keep telling himself that and one day it would be true. 

Thinking anything else meant she’d never look him in the eye or smile at him again, and he just couldn’t accept sacrificing their friendship because of something that every man and woman in the galaxy should be able to deal with. 

* * *

Not Jedi, Cass reminded himself later, looking out over the balcony of one of the few buildings that went up instead of down toward the water.

Jedi didn’t deal with their emotions in any way other than denying them. Anger? Push it back. Sadness? Meditate it away. Grief? That’s an attachment and something you should really analyze  and figure out how to get over. 

He didn’t know if that was the way it was supposed to be, but it didn’t matter. Suddenly, all the reasons he’d hated the Jedi were rushing back to him. It drove him mad to think that the organization could be filled with so many good people but be stifled by terrible traditions that prevented them from being healthy people. 

And he was an ex-smuggler. 

He came from a life of crime and relying on chance to get him by. 

There’s no reason he should be more emotionally healthy than Bastila and Juhani. 

“You know, she’s quite a bit younger than you. Kind of explains the ridiculous drama that just happened,” Bindo said as he walked out onto the balcony, standing next to Cass with a contemplative look on his face. “She hasn’t had that moment where she doubts the Jedi yet.” 

“Do you show up whenever I least want your opinion? Is that just some special Force power of yours?” 

Unsurprisingly, Bindo laughed as he leaned out over the railing, Cass not looking at him, staring instead at the ocean that stretched for eternity. The sun was starting to set now, and he wondered what season it was on Manaan vaguely as the waters turned indigo and scarlet. 

“You’re going to listen to a story.” 

Cass didn’t say anything, just glanced toward Bindo and nodded briefly before staring back at the gem-like waters, crests of the waves shining in the dying sunlight. Such a quiet world… no seabirds to make noise on a world without land masses, just the waves breaking against Ahto City. 

“Long ago, when I was a handsome young man with hair, I had a wife.” 

Those words caught Cass’ attention, his dark eyes leaving the ocean to look into the old man’s face. There was something sad in it, a sincerity that he’d never seen there before, something that stilled Cass’ propensity for sarcasm momentarily, sobering him to the seriousness of the situation. 

Bindo was going to confide something in him. 

That had to mean something important. 

“Now, I did a lot of things with this wife that the Jedi didn’t like,” the old man said, his eyes growing his sharp. “None of the perverted stuff you’re thinking about, not that we didn’t do that, too. No. I met her back when I was trying to smuggle supplies to people back before the Sith Wars, and realized she was Force Sensitive. Know what I did that made the Jedi so mad?” 

Cass breathed out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. 

He had a few guesses, already picturing the look of disapproval he’d seen on Master Vrook’s face every time he’d walked into a room… And the sorrow and hesitance on Master Lestin’s. It was easy to imagine a different Jedi Council, even one back before the Sith had returned, giving Jolee’s wife the same looks they gave him. 

“You trained her when she was too old?” he ventured, reaching up a hand to stroke the stubble already growing on his chin. 

“I never did say you were stupid,” Bindo replied with a wan smile.“Maybe just a bit caught up in your own thoughts sometimes.” 

He continued without giving Cass much of a chance to contemplate what he meant. “I trained her anyway, and then I married her, which was met with general disdain until the Big Heroes of the war started having kids or marrying. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Draays and Sunriders.” He snorted. “I did it way before any of them, so I guess I was exonerated of wrongdoing post war.” 

The names did sound familiar, he thought vaguely. The Sunriders and the Draays… Famous Jedi Families. Something to do with Exar Kun. Hell if he could remember… That was before he was born. 

“Point is, the Sith Wars happened. A lot of the Jedi went with Exar Kun. I guess the idea of power was appealing for them, or maybe the freedom. My wife and son defected with him… And I had to fight them. I realized then what I hadn’t realized at first… my actions had consequences.” His face was sad again. “They both died in the war, and then I stood trial for my actions. I thought I should have been punished… The Jedi showed me mercy.” 

An image was forming clearly in Cass’ mind of a younger Bindo leaving the Order, disenfranchised with the way they handled justice. How he ended up on Kashyyyk, Cass didn’t know, but he also wasn’t sure it mattered. A lot about a man could change in 40 years, even if not much around him changed, especially if he spent it all in the solitude of his mind. 

No wonder Bindo was strange. 

He couldn't imagine spending that much time in the Shadowlands. 

“You wish you would have faced the penalty for your mistakes?” he asked, carding his hands through his hair slowly. 

“Wouldn’t you?” Bindo asked. “I was selfish and wanted to keep her with me, so I trained her, and because I didn’t do a good enough job, I lost my family.” He sighed again, an old man at last, the sort with creaking joints and war scars. “But in spite of all of that, I don’t regret falling in love. I lost, but the love itself was worth it.” 

Cass was quiet, contemplating the words, finally seeing the point. 

Love.. was maybe a bit too powerful to describe what he felt for Bastila right now, he thought, but as his stomach twisted at the thought of her, he quickly realized it was possible what they had could become something more. They had a lot in common, but more than that, he… 

She kept him honest. He found her bluntness refreshing, her unparalleled honesty charming, and he wanted more than anything to take a chance on her, and for her to take a chance on him. 

Stupid Cass.

This was the last thing that should have happened. 

Especially after… 

_ Kriff.  _

“Doesn’t really feel like it.” He muttered darkly, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fore and middle fingers. “This is complicated. Especially considering the Bond. Would something like this have even happened without it?” 

He had to consider that it was a possibility. 

“But are you really letting yourself feel it?” Bindo asked. “Or do you still feel some asinine guilt about it? You can’t help what you feel, and there’s no shame in it. Don’t be an idiot and get caught up in the details and just let yourself feel something for two minutes. Something the Jedi never understood. They all think too much.” 

Cass breathed out, and tried to take Jolee’s advice, letting the tension drain from his shoulders. He did care for Bastila, that much was obvious, and it was okay -- It was okay. It didn’t matter that she was younger than him, it didn’t matter that the situation was difficult, and she didn’t have to ever admit she might care for him or act on her own feelings. 

It wasn’t wrong to feel.

As long as he accepted whatever her answer inevitably was, when she finally decided to deal with this, as long as he didn’t act like he had today… 

It was okay.

He was okay.

There was peace in that knowledge, somehow. 

“I really have to get better at this,” he muttered. 

“We all do,” Bindo said. “No one starts out perfect. Everyone’s a work in progress. Some of us just have more progress to make than others.” 

Cass choked out a laugh, shaking his head side to side slowly as he straightened, turning away from the balcony and looking back into the rooms they had rented. Tacky decorating, very nautical… But he supposed it was meant for tourists, not fumbling Jedi Padawans having guidance forced on them by disenfranchised Jedi Hermis. 

“There was bound to be some wisdom inside of you, for example,” Cass said with a shrug. “I guess I just have to bother it out of you.” 

Bindo made an annoyed sound and turned his own eyes back toward the room. “Get in there and get some food and rest. Take the advice of an old man while you’re still being pliant. You’re going to need your energy if we’re really going to be crazy enough to fight the Sith tomorrow.” 

He left without a goodbye, leaving Cass inclined to listen to him, for once. 

For now, it was best to live in the moment. 


	22. Part Three; Chapter Twenty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four more chapters left before we leave Manaan forever and get to the stuff I've personally wanted to write since we started on this journey in July.
> 
> Thank you again for all your support. I can't believe this fiction has the number of hits that it does. It's pretty impressive, considering i'm novelizing a 14 year old game, and none of it would be possible without you, the people who read this story.

The next morning they arrived at the Embassy to find that the Embassy still hadn’t managed to extract the information from their prisoner. The Ambassador insisted they wait, but with the way Bastila looked -- ready to snap and pull rank on the man in any moment -- Cass decided it was best to defuse the situation before she took whatever irritation she still felt at Cass out on someone whose help they dearly needed. 

“Do you need me to speak to him?” Cass found himself asking before really realizing that he was volunteering to interrogate a prisoner. 

_ Of course you are,  _ whispered a voice somewhere in the back of his head, one he largely tried to consciously ignore.  _ You’re good at getting information out of people. You always have been.  _

“You?” The Ambassador asked, eyebrows once more disappearing behind the rim of his hat. “Er… With all due respect, Master Jedi, do you have any experience with these sorts of things?”

“Does it matter?” Cass asked, crossing his arms over his chest, watching the man balk away from him for reasons Cass failed to understand. “As much as we’d all love to sit and wait for you to crack this guy, we really don’t have time. You’ve already asked us to do something incredibly dangerous, so if you trust us to do that…” 

The man seemed resigned, then glanced over Cass shoulders toward the others. “We don’t want to overwhelm the prisoners. Your companions will have to stay out here.”

Bastila seemed about to protest, but she caught Cass eyes, crossed her arms firmly over her chest, and then sighed heavily. Guilt stabbed briefly at him, but it short lived when he realized it was probably better if she learned when not to say things -- He just hoped it didn’t stop her from speaking up when it was really needed. 

Somehow, he doubted it. 

“I have no objection,” Carth answered for the group. “Cassus is the best at information extraction, anyway. I’ve seen him at work, Ambassador, and I can assure you of his competency.” 

The Ambassador nodded. “Thank you, Captain. I certainly believe you, I assure you. Come with me, Master Jedi.” 

Cass followed him, walking further into the massive Embassy that sprawled beneath the city, so close to the ocean’s surface that they could house a submarine here. For a moment, all was silent, the sounds of their boots on the metal and the humming of countless machines the only noise, until the Ambassador cleared his throat and paused. 

“You… You remind me of an old commanding officer of mine,” he said as he stroked his chin absently, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

Cass froze, looking down into the man’s face, anticipation rippling through him like static. He had a bad feeling, an increasingly sinking feeling in his stomach, like he’d swallowed a stone, but he kept his mouth shut, letting the man finish his thought. 

“A persuasive man, able to relate to the highest ranking officer and the lowliest private. I think part of it was his inability to respect the chain of command when it truly mattered, and do what was necessary,” the Ambassador said. “I remember the Battle of Duro. He and the Jedi were there to help the injured, or so we had been told, but when our fleet Captain fell, he took charge. The Mandalorians could have taken Duros’ shipyards that day… But thanks to him, they didn’t.” 

“You’re talking about Revan,” Cass replied bitterly. “I know he was at Duro with Malak, and I know all about his strategy to convince the Jedi Order to allow him to go off to war.” He paused, forcing himself to ease his own furrowed brow. “If you don’t mind elaborating, sir… Why do I remind you of him?” 

“Truthfully, part of it is likely the height,” the Ambassador said in an attempt to ease the tension Cass was sure was apparent on his face, though it didn’t help. “I know few people who are as tall as the former Supreme Commander.” 

The man continued, either oblivious or pretending not to notice how uncomfortable his captive audience was. “I haven’t known you long enough to make a completely accurate judgement, I’m sure, but you hold yourself with the same bearing. When Revan spoke, he spoke with a clever and quiet confidence that made a room take pause and listen, and though he could command with a booming voice, he seldom did. He was never afraid to let others speak for him, but you always knew that the words they spoke, they spoke with his full approval. It was his words they were speaking.” 

“I don’t control my friends,” he said adamantly, trying to banish the image of a phantom smile underneath a dark hood from his mind, as if Revan was taunting him, even in the conscious realm. “They have their own thoughts and feelings, Ambassador.”

“Revan doesn’t --” the man began, and then corrected himself. “Didn’t do that either. People listened to him because they like what he had to say and defended him because they agreed with his ideals. There’s no shame in being charismatic, son. You don’t have to feel bad for being a natural born leader.” 

Cass paused at that, letting the words sink in. 

It was hard, when he had grown so paranoid, when he was so certain that he --

Their  _ connection. _

It was getting harder and harder to ignore. 

As much as he couldn’t stand it, Revan was right. He was being lied to by everyone in the Order he’d ever encountered, and he wanted --  _ needed  _ \-- answers. 

One day he’d have to confront Bastila about it, but not here, and not now. 

“Thanks, Ambassador. I’m glad you think so,” he replied with a smile, pushing his own anxiety away as he forced his body to relax. “From someone of your experience, that’s a great compliment.” 

The Ambassador returned his smile with pleasantries, and lead him back to a small, windowless room where an officer stood next to an energy cage. The man inside looked bedraggled, beyond exhausted, and drugged out of his mind, immediately a bad sign. Some sort of truth serum?

_ Likely,  _ the little voice replied.  _ Interspersed with surges of energy from that cage’s bars, I’m certain. Fairly common technology, and very effective. I’m surprised to see the Republic employing it.  _

This time, Cass didn’t ignore it or push it away, accepting the information it had to offer -- As long as it  _ behaved _ , he emphasized in the quiet of his own mind. 

“Lieutenant, please allow the Master Jedi to speak to the prisoner,” said the Ambassador in a voice that smacked of warning as it slowly dawned on Cass that there was a reason the Ambassador had wanted to try to crack the prisoner without their interference. 

“Of course, Ambassador,” said the lieutenant, saluting before he walked over to the console to administer what Cass could only assume would be more drugs. “Shall I alert you if we find out anything?” 

“Immediately, of course,” the Ambassador said. “Please let the lieutenant know when you’re ready to return, Master Jedi.” 

Cass nodded absently. “Of course, Ambassador. Thank you.” 

Footsteps sounded against the permacrete as he walked forward watching the face of the groggy prisoner with tacit interest. Reaching out, he placed his hand on the control panel, and then rapped his knuckles against it, the man starting, staring down into Cass’ face with confused eyes. “You… Who are you…?” The man managed, tongue darting out to lick his cracked lips. 

“Good question,” Cass replied absently, running his free hand through his hair. “Listen, buddy, I heard you work for the Sith.” 

The man’s eyes widened, and Cass could sense as much as see the panic break across his features like waves against Ahto City’s supports. “Shhhh,” Cass told him in response. “Relax. A lot of things must be coming back to you right now, but I’m not like the Republic, I promise.” 

The man didn’t look convinced. “Who are you?” He demanded again, this time more adamantly, careful to avoid the bars of his electrified prison. 

“I’m here to see if I can help you,” Cass said. “You know the Sith as well as I do. You know what they’ll do to you if they find out you were captured.” He watched the man’s features carefully, barely contained panic sparking behind his eyes. “But I have power to negotiate with the Republic, and I want to help you. I just ask one thing in return, that’s all.” 

“They always want something in return,” the man said bitterly, almost immediately closing off, Cass taking a breath as he closed his eyes, opening them again a moment later. 

“You’re not going to get better from the Republic,” Cass replied earnestly, drilling the other man with his gaze. “I can tell from the conditions they’re keeping you in that they don’t really care what happens to you after they use you for the information you have, but I  _ do _ . Let me  _ help you _ .” 

The man didn’t look convinced, not at first, but as his eyes strayed toward the lieutenant and then snapped back to Cass, there was a change in them. Carefully, they dropped to Cass’ belt, where his lightsaber hung, conflict tearing at the man’s features before he sighed and nodded. “I’ll tell you what you want, but you have to get my family to the Republic Embassy. You have to promise. Swear… Swear on the Force.” 

Cass nodded, and then looked toward the lieutenant, raising his hand in the air and idly waving it, speaking in a commanding, yet faraway, voice. “You’ll see to it that this man’s family is retrieved and secure from the Sith.” 

The lieutenant’s face morphed from disapproving to blank and he nodded absently. “I will see to it that this man’s family is retrieved and secure from the Sith.” 

“Good enough for you, agent?” Cass asked, the prisoner staring at the lieutenant looking uncomfortable but still reassured. 

“Yes,” the man admitted softly. “You could have done that me, but you… didn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck and wet his lips again. “What do you want?” 

Cass explained the situation, drawing out the conversation for as long as he could before the lieutenant returned to report somewhat confusedly that they had people on the task of retrieving the man’s family from the other side of the city. By that time, Cass had the codes, offering the prisoner a small nod of his head before he turned to ask the lieutenant to contact the Ambassador. Moments later, the man had returned, honestly not looking terribly surprised, hardly shocking considering the topic of their last conversation. 

_ What did I say about making friends? Diplomacy works better in some situations. You just won that man’s loyalty and made yourself look better than the Republic.  _

Cass shrugged off the voice for the moment, telling himself that he hadn’t done it to be better than the Republic, not the way Revan would want him to, anyway. He did it because it was the right thing to do. That was all. 

“I’m impressed,” the Ambassador said, arms crossed behind his back. “According to the lieutenant, you managed to bargain it out of him.”

“If you ask me, we should use bargaining more often, Ambassador. The Republic desperately needs to be an alternative to Sith, and they won’t appear to be one if they torture their prisoners,” he said it as diplomatically as he could manage, shame flickering over the Ambassador’s features. “We can’t sink to their level, sir.”

“I know you’re right,”the Ambassador admitted. “I guess the feeling around here has just grown desperate. Hopefully, you can change that by getting the memory core from this probe.” 

Cass paused as the man paused, looking up into his face again, quiet and filled with the same desperation he had just described. It pulsed all around them, throbbing like a heartbeat, anxiety, fear, contention, all because of the Sith. On the battlefield or in the depths of space where ships swarmed like flies around Destroyers, Bastila could make them stronger, make them believe in themselves and given them the strength to go on, but here, on the ground, they were stuck. 

The situation with the Sith was critical, and the Republic was standing on a knife’s edge waiting to tip off the other side if they didn’t get a miracle. 

He’d gone into this wanting to defeat the Sith, but he hadn’t realized how right Carth had been in the very beginning until this moment -- They were lucky it was Malak, as direct and brutal as he could be. If Revan was still out there, if he was still leading the Sith with all his charisma and clever thinking, the Republic would be doomed and no number of last ditch secret missions could save them. 

As it was, the Galaxy was still balanced on the span between his shoulders with no more than a band of misfits held together by his leadership to help him. 

He suddenly felt impossibly small. 

“I’ll do what I can, Ambassador,” he replied after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared sightlessly down the hallway. “Rest assured, by helping me now you could be helping the entire Galaxy. I’ll be back with your memory core as soon as I can.” 

Then, as if he’d walked hallways in Embassies like this one thousand times, so many times that the path was carved into the synapses of his brain, Cass took the lead and lead them from the Republic Base. 

* * *

 

The hallways of the Sith Embassy were brighter than those in the Republic Embassy, better funded and clearly better maintained. It was obvious who had more money to throw at their facilities, but that didn’t particularly surprise Cass, who kneeled by the door to the storage facilities, access panel pried off of the way as he tried to override the door’s locks to avoid triggering the alarms. Carth and Bastila stood at either end of the hall, standing guard, while Bindo was not present, back at the Hawk to bring their companions up to speed. 

It was probably best to bring as few people into this place as possible, anyway. 

Cass knew the Sith, he’d always known the Sith, and whether that was because he used to slip past their blockades or march in their ranks at this point didn’t matter. Either did disabling the security cameras, really, not when he could sense the presence of a dozen Dark Jedi milling this Embassy's halls. He knew that they could probably sense him, too, if not Bastila. 

Alarms or no alarms, it probably wouldn't be long until the troopers in their shiny armor or one of the patrol droids happened upon them, pointed in their direction by the former Jedi. 

How many had Bastila known, he wondered vaguely, hissing in triumph as the locks beeped and then released with an impatient outtake of air. Quietly, he motioned for his companions to come back to him, watching them both move silently toward him, slipping into the darkness of the storage room only when he was sure they were close enough to follow him. 

The space was large, and he could already see the shape of the probe droid, white and orange in the dimly lit room. Quietly, he crept past stacks of ammunition boxes, most probably containing frag grenades, toward the defunct machine, quickly realizing that it likely hadn’t been used for scientific observation at all. He’d always expected it to be military grade, but generally, probe droids didn’t have this kind of fire power. 

_ They’re keeping something from you, Jaybird.  _

The voice hissed in his mind, urgent, paranoid as he jumped effortlessly to the top of the machine to sit on its back, trying to gain access to the memory core. 

_ Connected to the mercenaries? Yes, it must be. But what is worth all this secrecy?  _

He didn’t know, but sending someone who had no idea what it was had been clever on the Ambassador’s part. That way, if they were captured, neither the Sith -- nor possibly the Selkath -- could extract any information from them. 

_ If we get out of this alive, get him to give you the information.  _

He had already been planning on it, if only because they did genuinely need the payoff from the job the Selkath man in the cantina had given him the day before. Cass loved a good mystery, but only when it wasn’t stopping him from doing his job. By getting them involved, the Ambassador hadn’t realized, but he’d made it Cass’ business -- Jedi business. 

“How much longer do you think this will take?” Carth hissed in the darkness, crouched behind one of the boxes, directly across from Bastila. “Bastila is getting impatient.” 

“You would be impatient too,” Bastila snapped, eyes flickering toward Cass in the darkness, “if you could sense a half dozen Dark Jedi all converging on our location. I don’t like being cornered, so forgive me if I’m not fond of our odds.” 

“Relax,” Cass told both of them, his voice level, but barely above a whisper as he opened up the back of the droid’s head. “They come through the door, push one of the boxes at them. It won’t activate the grenades, but it will trip them up and give us time to retaliate.” 

“Did you think of that just now?” Carth asked, giving him a blank stare. “Not a bad plan, honestly. I’m starting to remember why they picked you up on Coruscant in the first place.” 

Cass stared at Bastila for a moment, wanting to see if she reacted to what Carth had just said, but she was too aware of her eyes on him and stared stubbornly away. He had no time for this, anyway. After they got off of Manaan, he told himself, turning back to the Droid. 

“Where did you pick up the ability to tinker with droids anyway?” Carth asked. “It doesn’t seem like something that a smuggler would know.” 

“Come on, Carth,” Cass said, smile turning into a grimace as he pulled away a charred component of the droid -- vocabulator maybe -- eyes finally lighting on the memory core, perfectly intact. “We both know that I know a lot of things a smuggler technically shouldn’t know. I think you’d be used to my repertoire of sundry skills now.” 

Carefully, he began to work on the memory core, shifting it delicately from side to side, freezing when he heard voices from down the hallway. They were distant enough that he might be able to close the door to storage and they wouldn’t see, so he reached out with his mind, extending his hand with his fingers outstretched, the door yielding to his will a moment later as it swooshed nearly silently shut. 

Taking a light from the pouch on his belt, he flashed it momentarily at Carth and Bastila, pressing a finger to his lips before he placed the light between his teeth and went back to work. 

Outside, he could hear them talking. 

“-- why we have to have them on base?” Said the first, a woman, pricking Cass’ attention, stilling his hands as they moved the memory core from side to side. 

“You know why. Darth Malak demands more acolytes. Training these ones will help the plan to integrate Manaan into the Empire go more smoothly, after this phase of the operation is done,” another woman sighed. “It was part of the former Dark Lord’s plan, and Darth Malak has seen fit to keep it. It’s not our place to question.” 

Cass held his breath, remembering all Revan’s talk about making friends, a chill traveling down his spine. The kids, the man in the bar -- His theory was true. The Sith had taken the Selkath children, to train them in the ways of the Sith and… what, install them into the government? Make the Selkath think it was their idea? 

_ Just like him, isn’t it? Malak, taking credit for all of my good ideas and thrusting the blame for his failed schemes off on me. There was a time he never would have dreamed of doing something like that, but… _

It sounded like remorse in the phantom voice, the regrets of a man who wished things could have gone differently. Cass’ own chest ached for a minute with a sense of loss so profound that it disoriented him and he had to catch himself to stop from falling off the droid’s back. Thankfully, he didn’t make any noise loud enough for the Sith outside to hear, though he did get confused and concerned looks from both of his companions. 

_ It’s the way of the Sith. The sacrifice was made willingly.  _

“What a thing to sacrifice,” he muttered under his breath and around his light as he set to wiggling the core out once more, chest still aching with the ghost of incomprehensible grief and regret. “What did you do, Revan?”

_ What I had to, Jaybird. Always what I had to.  _

The room felt colder after that. 

Cass managed to work the core out a moment later, the device small and fragile in his hand. Quietly, he tucked it into the pouch on his side, and slid from the back of the droid, landing silently on the ground. He sat there for a moment, crouched, listening to hear if there were any more Sith in the hallway, but whoever had been there before was long gone. 

Rising slowly to his feet, he ran the fingers of one hand through his hair and exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“I’d say let’s get out of here, but unfortunately for the both of you, I’ve been sitting on some very important information,” Cass said. “Information those two Sith out there confirmed. There are Selkath children here, and I intend to free them.” 

“Selkath… children?” Bastila’s brow furrowed deeply. “But why would the Sith capture…” He watched the pieces click to place together in her mind before she nodded. “You’re right. We can’t leave them here.” 

“Okay, if you two will stop reading each other’s minds for a minute and remember that I have no idea what’s going on, I would appreciate it.”

Cass looked to Carth, smiled and then shrugged, and placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “There are Force Sensitive children being kept here by the Sith. Bastila and I are planning a jailbreak.” 

“And were you planning on leaving me out of it?” Carth asked as his lips twitched up into a smile as reluctant as it was genuinely amused. “Or drag me along for the ride?” 

“Come now, Captain Onasi, we both know how good I am at dragging people into my crusades,” he said, eyes flicking briefly toward the suspiciously emotionless Bastila. “At least, now that I’m a Jedi.” 

“Very funny,” Carth replied, swatting his hand away, some of the reluctance melting away from his smile, leaving him looking more genuinely pleased than Cass might have ever seen him. “Come on. If we’re going to go off on a crazy sidequest, we might as well get it over with. I’ve learned there’s no arguing with you by now.” 

Cass returned the smile with a lopsided grin and pulled away, looking toward Bastila, who was staring at him in a way that made him hyper aware of her. Clearing his throat, he walked toward the door and opened it again, poking his head out briefly to check if the coast was clear before clearing his mind and reaching out with the Force. 

He could feel them -- Left and down, their presences muddled, confused, not as Dark as the Fallen Jedi here in the base, but they could fall that away, if pushed. 

He wouldn't let that happen.

“This way,” he said as he set off down the hallway, prepared to walk straight into the belly of this metal beast if he had to, moving quickly and silently through the white washed hallways of the Sith Base. 

It was short work to make it to the elevators, even faster to go down them, standing in the glass tube and watching the ocean slip past them. In the distance there was a dark shape, a fissure in the ocean floor, and Cass suddenly recalled reading about it when he was researching Manaan as a foggy memory came to mind. 

His dream with Revan -- The Hrakert Rift. 

The Star Map was there. 

“Cassus?” Bastila asked, pulling him from his thoughts. “You seem distracted. Are you well?”

“Good question,” he replied. “I’ll get back to you on that when I’ve had more time to think. For now, let’s just focus on getting these kids out of here.” 

She didn’t seem convinced, he could tell from the look on her face. Bastila could feel his emotions, so she had to know what he was going through, it had to bother her, considering… Considering her own feelings, the sort of feelings that made his stomach stir in nervous longing. He didn’t even bother to think what it might do if she were to acknowledge and reciprocate. Did… she think that his turmoil was her fault when it actually had very little to do with her right now? She didn’t know about --

_ Breathe. Your mind is spiraling, you fool.  _

“Don’t worry too much, Bastila,” he added quickly. “It was a conversation the Ambassador and I were having before we came here that reminded me we’re the Galaxy’s last ditch effort to stop all of this.” He motioned around. “I’m feeling a bit more serious than I used to about that particular issue.” 

She didn’t look completely convinced, but he could sense it would be enough to stop her from questioning him, and that was all that mattered to him as the doors to the elevator slid open. 

At that moment, all other thoughts vanished, the sight of green blood on white tile enough to make his blood turn chill in his veins. Black hoods against the lights of the Embassy, the shape of a small Selkath crumpled on the ground, and it was all Cass needed to ignite his saber, drawing the eyes of the robed figures standing over the body. 

He barely even remembered the moment his saber arced from his hand, perfectly guided by the Force, and returned to him, leaving one of the two robed figures slumped on the floor, motionless. Aware vague of Bastila rushing toward the Selkath’s side and Carth frozen in place, his reflexes slower than either Force user, Cass reached out with the Force, dragging the other figure slowly toward him. 

Alarm shot across her features and scattered through the Force like electric pulses, reaching out desperately with her sudden fear to send arcs of lightning shooting from her fingertips. Automatically, Cass changed his grip on his saber, absorbing the currents with its blade, the hot white light momentarily blinding him. 

Hissing, he fell back into a defense as he felt her charge toward him, instincts ringing in the back of his mind as they locked blades. Slowly, gratingly, lightsaber humming and spitting all the way, he slid his violet saber toward her hands, watching her leap back to avoid the heat a heartbeat later. 

Lashing out with the Force, Cass knocked her to the ground midair, her body skidding across the tile. Following her, he leapt through the air, terminating her life with an arc of his wrist. 

The battle was over in minutes. 

Without thinking, he spun to the Selkath and Bastila, the look on her face enough to tell him that there was nothing to be done. Quietly, he kneeled beside the young alien, reaching out to place a hand on their shoulder, blurry, dark eyes meeting his gaze. 

“Did not expect… To see off worlders…” the Selkath gasped, the voice even wetter than usual as it spit up green blood. “Why… are you… here?” 

“We’re here to save you,” Cass said honestly, his brow furrowing deeply, squeezing the Selkath’s shoulder as a large hand reached up to grasp his arm, flickering gratitude radiating from the young alien. 

“You… are honest. They won’t… believe you… Unless--” A fit of coughing, and Bastila’s hands glowed, soothing the death pangs, her eyes filled with regret… and anger. “I have something… A token… It was a gift from Sahsa…. Give it to her… She… She will know…” 

Cass reached out, the Selkath pulling something from the folds of their robes, pressing the cold, metal object into his hands with the last of their strength. He looked down at the object, a pale, metal disk with words so worn that he couldn't make them out inscribed along the outside edge. By the time he looked up, the Selkath had gone limp, the light flickering from the depths of their eyes as their spirit became one with the Unifying Force.

Quietly, Cass placed his hand on the Selkath's chest, bowing his head for a moment, muttering quick last rites under his breath before he pulled away, rising to his feet. He knew he was covered in green blood, that it probably looked bad, but given the circumstances, he was more determined than ever to get these children out of here.

He'd had a feeling that he'd watched spirit's fire vanish from someone's eyes before, even if his memories told him otherwise.

Cass was remembering why he'd always trusted his instincts.

"We have to hurry," Cass said as he reached out with his senses again, trying to  _ feel _ the presence of the other Selkath students. "I don't know how much time we have left, but they'll know we're here now, and probably pin this on us if we don't make it to the students first."

They were near, near enough that Cass broke out into a sprint, his heart pounding in his throat and throbbing in his ears. Carth and Bastila didn't object, their boots pounding against the tiled floor, though he could sense that Bastila, at least, was uncertain. A part of her still doubted him, but Cass pushed it away -- He couldn't afford to let her emotions about him distract him anymore, no matter the nature of those emotions.

Bursting through a pair of doors, Cass was relieved to find the Selkath students, who were all staring at him as if he were a tumor.

Too late he realized he'd gone into this without any plan for negotiation, and quickly held up his hands in gesture of goodwill.

"Is one of you named Sahsa?" he heard himself ask, remembering Taris again, the swoop races, and heeding the call of the Force as he hadn't since Dantooine, completely surrendering himself.

The largest of the Selkath elbowed through the crowd, grasping a humming vibroblade in her hand, black eyes blazing red in their depths as she sized him up. "I am Sahsa. Who are you to barge in here and approach me, a student of the Sith?"

"A Jedi," he responded automatically, motioning toward the saber on his belt. "And a concerned man who heard your father talking about your disappearance at the hands of the Sith. He fears foul play."

"The Sith took us to protect us from the likes of the Republic," one of the students interjected. "And the Jedi are the same as the Republic. They're weak, and they want to take advantage of our people by stealing our Kolto."

Cass could have argued politics, but in reality... He didn't really think they were wrong. The Republic probably was just trying to take the kolto. It didn't care about the fate of a few Selkath children, but increasingly Cass was realizing he wasn't the Republic, and as much as he believed in the Jedi's vision...

"Listen, this isn't about how bad the Republic is," he said, holding out the medallion for Sahsa to look at. "This is about the Sith and the fact that they're using you. I'm not here for the Republic. I haven't lost sight of what a Jedi is supposed to do -- Help people. People like  _ you _ ."

Sahsa stared blankly at the medallion, reaching out to take it, her voice strained when she spoke, water bubbling up through a fissure in the rocks. "Where did you get this?" She looked up toward him, finally noticing the green blood he was covered in. "Why... Why are you...?"

The others immediately moved to attack him, bristling as they drew their weapons, but Sahsa held up her free hand, staring blankly at the medallion. "No. I want to hear it from his lips. Speak, off worlder."

"I found your friend bleeding out in the hallway, two Sith standing over them," Cass explained as Carth and Bastila finally burst into the room behind him. "They told me you gave this to them before they died. Their hope was that by showing it to you, you could lead the others out of here, that no one else would have to die."

Sorrow, so sublime that it made his heart clench in response, radiated from Sahsa.

For a long time, she was quiet, the half dozen Selkath students staring at her with as much expectation as he felt in the eyes of his companions, trained on his back. Everyone held their breaths, tension broken only when Sahsa stepped forward and reached out to place a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said. "I believe you. I can sense no deception in you, nor see it in your eyes. This comes from her. She gave this to you with... With her dying breath." Sahsa's voice shuddered. "We have to leave. All of us. We've been deceived."

The Selkath began to mutter around themselves, a few of them even reaching out to brush their presence against his, testing his sincerity. He could feel it at the edge of his consciousness, minds probing, the sensation cutting off abruptly when the lights began to flicker and the claxons started to blare.

"They know we're here," Carth shouted over the noise. "What now, Cass?"

"We lead them away from the students," Cass replied, shielding his eyes from the bright red lights flashing on the wall. "Then we find a way to get out of here."

Sahsa nodded. "We'll do what we can. Thank you, human. What... What is your name?"

"Cassus," he replied, looking toward the door they had entered from, worried that any minute patrol droids and troopers would start to pour in. "Cassus Jaylen. Hurry, Sahsa. Your father is waiting for you."

Without waiting for a response, he motioned to Carth and Bastila to follow, noting the determination in both of their eyes as he passed to walk back out into the hallway and into the fray.

* * *

An hour later, Cass found himself stepping back through the front door and straight into the welcoming arms of the Ahto City Authority.

Bastila looked about ready to fight the tall, imposing Selkath in their bright, reinforced wet suits, but a quick exchange of glances and they were working together again as well as they ever had before this rift had started to form between them. Thankfully, for whatever reason, Cass was considered the instigator, and Carth and Bastila were both sent back to the Ebon Hawk while he awaited his trial the next day in Ahto City lockup.

He wasn't exactly excited for it, but it made sense that he'd be targeted by the Selkath... And to an extent by the Sith. If Malak knew about his activities on the other world, he was likely considered the ringleader of this little group... And in some ways, that couldn't be more true. He'd become the defacto leader of this mission.

They were his visions.

It was his mission.

It made sense Malak would make him take the fall.

Binders on his wrists, Cass was marched through the streets of Ahto City like a fugitive, a sensation he was comfortable with, for one reason or another. 

It was easy for him to ignore the eyes of the people on him, alien and human alike, and focus on walking while his balance was compromised. Thankfully, lockup wasn’t that far away, and before long he found himself sitting in a cell not too different from the one he was interviewing the prisoner in earlier. It was a bit of a cramped fit, but at least it had bars instead of electrical currents. 

He guessed the Selkath were fairer jailers than either the Republic or the Sith. 

Cass’ guess was proven correct when Jolee Bindo walked through the doors an hour or so later, looking down at him with an intense expression on his face. “They explain to you why you’re here, boy?” He asked, walking up toward the bars to look in on Cass, brows furrowed deeply. “Or did they just throw you away?” 

“The Sith demanded I face justice for my crimes,” Cass replied, standing up to brace himself against the bars, his legs cramped, body too long for the little cell. “The crimes, in this case, breaking into the Sith Embassy and killing agents of the Empire while I was there.” 

“And did you kill agents of the Empire?” Bindo asked. 

Cass sighed. “It wasn’t the plan going into it, but… There was something I had to follow up on. So yes, I did actually kill Sith.” 

Bindo ran his hand over his face and grumbled. “Doesn’t make a good case for you, especially not when you’re covered in Selkath blood, too.” The old man paused and sighed again, leaning his head against the bars of Cass’ holding cell, his eyes closing. “You’d better hope the Force is on your side, or Malak will have won.” 

“I had to do it,” he said, gripping the bars. “There were more lives at stake than just mine, no matter how important anyone else thinks I am. I couldn’t abandon people who needed me.” 

Bindo stared at him for a long moment, and then sighed, rubbing his hand slowly over his face. “Right. Listen,” Bindo started, standing as close to the bars as he could manage. “I only have a limited amount of time so I’m going to tell you another story and you need to not interrupt me.” 

_ Another _ story? 

Bindo was just full of them, wasn’t he? 

Still, Cass could only nod, wondering what the moral would be this time, or if it would be from his personal experience or something else. He had his answer when Bindo launched into what was clearly a parable of some sort without any preamble whatsoever. “Once, there was a man who lived in a village deep in the jungle. One day, a viper wandered into the village, and headed straight toward the buildings. The man, seeing this, stepped in front of the snake and taunted it until it followed him into the thick foliage, away from the village, and away from the people.” 

Cass listened, leaning his head against the cool bars as his eyes dropped closed. A chill ran down his spine, and he worried his lip between his teeth as he listened to what Bindo’s deep voice spin his tale. 

“Through the jungle, the two of them traveled, man and snake, until the man finally grew weary after days of travel. The viper looked over the villager, black eyes glinting with curiosity as he finally came upon his victim. “Why did you run all the way out of here, just to die?” he asked.”

Bindo paused, and Cass could well imagine the villager in the story also pausing, looking down at the bright yellow snake with a calm expression on his bronze face, one with just a hint of a smile in his eyes. Like Bendu tricking Bogan in all the stories little Jedi Children were told about the Force growing up. 

“The villager laughed,” Bindo said, weaving his tale. “Chase me? I thought I was leading you away from the village.”’

Cass opened his eyes, looking at Bindo, trying to apply the story to his situation. The old man gave nothing away from his expression, but his stare was so intense that Cass realized that he probably wasn’t referring to the situation at hand, specifically, but Cass’ situation in general. 

Cass wasn’t the villager, neglecting the village by defending them from a single snake. 

He… was the viper, wasn’t he? 

And Bindo… 

Bindo was the villager. Trusting his people could watch over themselves while he tried to gauge how much of a threat the snake really was. 

Taking a breath, rubbing his temples, Cass leaned back against the bars on the opposite side of the cell. “So if I’m the viper, what’s your judgement, Jolee? Was I going to kill the villagers?” 

“Maybe once,” Jolee said. “You’re the wrong kind of smart for a smuggler. We both know that.” He paused, wrapping one of his hands around the bars of the cell and gave Cass the most intense look he’d ever given him. “For whatever reason, you’re on the path of light. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to interfere, but the Force has called me to you, called me to observe. Human curiosity wants to know how long you’ll keep the path, or if you’ll backslide the moment the day of reckoning comes.” 

Cass slid down the bars, looking up into Bindo’s face. He was sure it was apparent how distressed he was, not just because of his expression, but because his emotions were turbulent, easily detectable to a Jedi. Tugging his hands through his hair, he opened and closed his mouth, searching for words that he couldn't quite find. 

In some ways this was all but confirmation of his worst fears, but… 

Only Bastila or the Order could confirm the connection. 

He wasn’t Revan.

He wasn’t. 

He had other memories, a…. A life before. 

It had to be something else.

It  _ had _ to be. 

“What do I do now?” he asked Bindo, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “What  _ can _ I do?” 

Bindo gave him a long look, sliding down to crouch before the bars, meeting Cass at eye level. “You keep pushing on and trust in the will of the Force. It’s all you can do when you’re faced with despair if you don’t want it to consume you.” Bindo’s face softened and he sighed, dark eyes full of an emotion Cass couldn’t immediately recognize -- not pity, something less patronizing, something sadder. “Trust me, kid, I know what it feels like to stand at that precipice desperately wanting to let go because it would be easier, but don’t forget that you have the strength to pull yourself back up over the ledge.” 

Bindo paused and he considered Cass again, this time in a quiet way, though no less penetrating. 

He looked away, suddenly afraid of what Bindo would see, of the things that lurked in the depths of his own soul. 

“You’re not a bad person,” Bindo said. “Don’t forget that.”

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hold up room, and Bindo stood, looking toward the two Selkath that had entered. He followed them without a word, leaving Cass alone with the suddenly deafening humming of the machines in the building around him, emphasizing how alone he was with nothing but the mechanical to keep him company. 

He felt cold. 

It wasn’t because it was cold in the room, Cass recognized it. The feeling came from inside, making him shiver and his teeth chatter as he tucked his head between his knees. Tears, jarringly hot, spilled over from his eyes, and he clenched his jaw to keep from making any noise. 

Cass had only been this cold in Revan’s presence. 

The voice was silent, leaving him painfully alone the one time that he truly needed to hear it. 

Alone with that thought, and the weight of all the lies he was telling himself, Cass let the coldness permeate his flesh, dropping off to dark and disturbing dreams that he wouldn’t remember in the morning. 


	23. Part Three; Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Life got at me a bit, there. 
> 
> I do have really good news, though!
> 
> I pitched my novel to two different publishers and both of them wanted to look at parts of it. I might eventually be a published actual author.

Cass stood before the tribunal of magistrates, still in binders, without anyone to defend him but his own word. After last night, though, he was oddly calm, even standing in front of the Selkath, who looked at him with the most severe expressions they could manage as the silent room slowly filled.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but when he’d woken after the nightmares, he felt refreshed and resolved, the sense that he would come out of this fine filling him. It was clear to him that this massive hall with its vaulted ceilings and elegant architecture was meant to be intimidating, but Cass felt the will of the Force in this.

It swelled around him, flowed through him, and he had never felt so certain of his mission -- of anything -- in his life.

 _You know what it is,_ said the voice in the back of his head, suspiciously present after its absence last night. _The flash of a million images in your mind, all possible futures. Your strength is returning. How long before you can feel the Force fully again?_

Cass didn’t ignore the voice, accepting it for what it was, but taking what it said with a grain of salt. He couldn’t know where it was from, or what it meant in full until he got answers from Bastila, something he wasn’t prepared to do until he had this fourth piece of the Star Map safely in his grasp.

Any answers he needed he should have before Korriban, but until then…

Until then he had resolved to trust in the Force.

He never wanted to feel that cold again.

Cass lifted his head the moment he felt the pull of a few familiar presences at the back of his mind, one stronger than the other, finding himself unsurprised to see Bastila, Carth, and Bindo brought into the room. It was good to see them, relief washing over them that they were unharmed, that the Sith were trying to respect at least the appearance of following the rules, even if they were trying to game the system.

The Republic was trying to do the same, and Cass was possibly evidence of that.

He was just fortunate that the Selkath had seen fit not to search their prisoner, or they’d have found the droid’s memory core. Maybe the Republic had friends in the Selkath government, after all? Friends who were protecting whatever was really on the core.

Because whatever it was, Cass was sure it wasn’t data about the ocean currents.

He took the opportunity to get a better look at his friends, noticing immediately how grim Carth looked, though that was hardly a surprise. The soldier caught and held Cass’ eyes for a moment, offering him a weary smile as he sat down to observe the proceedings. Bindo, of course looked like he wasn’t bothered at all, but Cass could tell that wasn’t the case, for the first time sensing the tumult of Bindo’s own emotions, the uncertainty that hid behind his sarcasm.

As for Bastila…

She looked as pale as a ghost, like she hadn’t slept at all, her eyes widening when she met his gaze, relief flooding all of his senses at once. It was overwhelming, but he reached out to her in reassurance, letting her know that he was alright, that it was okay -- he knew it would be. There was no reason for fear, for uncertainty. The Force was on their side right now.

He watched her expression morph from one of shock, to confusion, to a sort of understanding.

Later.

They would talk late.

It was going to be okay.

The Force was with him.

“All rise for the introduction of the honorable Magistrates,” a Selkath boomed across the room, and Cass stood, arranging his bound hands carefully in front of him.

 _Not so different from standing in front of the Council,_ the voice said. _The only difference being that these people have more of a right to judge you than the Council ever has._

As the Magistrates sat back down and Cass sank back into his seat on the bench  he allowed himself a small smile.Cass straightened his back, looking as respectable as he could in blood stained and crumpled Jedi robes with the beginnings of another beard already growing on his face. It was likely quite the spectacle, something to behold, and probably looked quite incriminating to the Selkath assembled before him.

“Off Worlder Cassus Jaylen,” began one of the Selkath in a booming voice, the rest of the room growing quiet as the grave. “You are here because you were found outside the Sith Embassy in Ahto City, covered in the blood of our people. The charges against you are numerous, and include breaking and entering, destruction of property, and murder in the first degree, the penalty of which is a sizable fine of 500,000 credits and permanent exile of you and your direct descendants from Manaan.” The head of the tribunal paused, and Cass could sense his eyes searching, trying to discern the sort of man Cass’ was with a glance. “How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” he declared calmly.

“You understand that by pleading not guilty, you are pleading not guilty to all charges?” The old Selkath asked, leaning forward across the bench. “Including breaking and entering?”

“I had a code,” Cass said. “And I didn’t even extort anyone to get it, and I think the tribunal will find that the droid in question has Republic markings on it, so to that end I really didn’t destroy anything that belonged to the Sith in the first place. As for the blood…” he motioned to himself. “I know that looks incriminating, but I can explain.”

The Magisters exchanged wary glances, though that was honestly about what he had expected. He had no evidence on him that he could reveal in court, he thought, knowing that the droid’s memory core likely had something that would incriminate the Republic on it, something that would get them all banished. And with so many people on the verge of death…

They couldn’t afford to lose Manaan’s kolto.

He’d just have to rely on his charm and good looks.

_I’ve been in worse situation before -- Just trust that the Force will provide._

“This court requires elaboration from the accused,” said the old Selkath at last, laced his fingers together in front of him and bowed his head gravely.

“An inspection of the Droid in question will bring to light the truth of my claims, which naturally the Sith will submit to if they have nothing to hide,” Cass declared coolly. “As for the code, you can question the man at the door, and I’m sure he’ll tell you that I entered the base through legal means, lest he wish the Sith to face the same fate as me.”

He watched the man in question turn a shade paler from the corner of his eye and smiled in spite of himself. The Selkath didn’t look as impressed, but it wasn’t the Selkath he was sparring with right now, not really.

The real competition was between the Sith and the Republic. It was the Sith’s accusations he had to prove incorrect, even if it was the Selkath’s fury he was avoiding.

There was so much at stake here.

_The fate of the Galaxy. Just another Taungsday, really._

“And the blood?” One of the Selkath on the panel asked. “How do you explain that?”

Cass took a breath, and placed his manacled hands on the table in front of him. Straightening his back, he stood tall, lifting his chin as he made eye contact with the arbiters of his fate, clearing his mind of anxiety.

“The Sith were holding Force Sensitive juvenile Selkath and training them in the ways of the Dark Side,” he explained. “I happened upon the murder of one of these students and freed the others from their grasp. We tried to save the lost student, but... “ Cass bowed his head low, brow furrowing as he thought about the young girl pressing the token into his hand, clammy skin growing colder. “It was too late. Thanks to her sacrifice, however, the other students were able to escape.”

He could already tell that they didn’t believe him, and that there was little he could do to convince them if he didn’t find some evidence to corroborate his statements. Cass closed his eyes, picking through his memories carefully, knowing his witnesses wouldn’t be enough to get him out of this, sorting through arguments as the seconds slowly ticked away.

A verdict couldn’t be far off now.

Opening his eyes again, Cass opened his mouth to offer further argument, determined to do _something_ to stave off this fate before he found his Star Map, interrupted by the sound of doors hissing open, deafening in the silence.

“This man is not guilty of the crimes of which he’s accused!” the wet, familiar, voice bellowed, echoing off of the vaulted ceilings. “I am Sahsa, and this man saved my life!”

The entire courtroom began to mother, the Magistrates exchanging shocked looks as they beckoned her to the front of the room. Sahsa came, and with her, her father, the drunk Selkath from the cantina a few days ago. He stood besides Cass, reaching out a webbed hand and dropping it on his shoulder, offering him a reassuring nod of his head as he turned his attention back toward his daughter, who stood before the Magistrates with an outstretched arm.

Cass could see the large coin grasped in her palm. “Please, I ask that you listen to me, Honorable Ones. You know that I’ve been missing the last few weeks, along with many others. This Outworlder came for us in the depths of the Sith Embassy and freed us. Thanks to him, we’ve all been returned from our whereabouts, all except….” She sucked in a deep breath, popping wetly. “Even if you cannot demand entrance to the Sith Embassy, I think you will find all but one of the missing youths have returned, Honorable Ones.”

The looked at one another, the Selkath at their head sighing heavily. “If you and your father will take responsibility for the prisoner and his allies, we will investigate your claims and send you a verdict tomorrow. Considering your presence here is compelling enough evidence, I don’t suspect they will be detained at your place of residence long, young one.”

There was a beep, and Cass cuffs fell to the table in front of him, leaving him to rub at his wrists absently.

“I owe this man my life,” Sahsa said, glancing back toward Cass and her father. “We will have no problem honoring what he’s done for us, Honorable Ones, I assure you.”

Cass believed her.

Bastila and the others were walking across the room before he could even draw breath to thank his unlikely rescuers, Carth slapping him on the back while Bindo said something sarcastic that Cass couldn’t quite process. Instead, he looked at Bastila, shocked to see tears falling from her eyes, immediately, concern welled inside of him and he pulled away from Carth to walk toward her, any words he might have said robbed from him when she threw her arms around his center.

The embrace didn’t last long for him to respond, either to wrap his arms around her or to say something comforting, but he could feel relief radiating from her. She pulled away, but Cass' hands followed her, falling to her shoulders, noting she was unable to meet his eyes and that she felt incredible shame at her lapse in control.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, reaching out with his feelings, brushing gentle certainty and reassurance against her anxiety. “It’s over, Bastila. I’m okay. We can talk later?”

She nodded as she finally looked up to meet his gaze. “I think we need to.”

Cass offered her a smile as he pulled away, turning his attention back toward Sahsa and her father. He bowed low, still relaxed, certain that he’d made the right decision, instinct telling him that he’d been right to trust the Force.

_Like regaining your balance, isn’t it? Equilibrium is returning to your life as you re-enter the sphere you operate best in -- The mystical._

He found himself agreeing with the voice in that much, though he felt odd embracing the abstract of the Unifying Force, something he hadn’t been encouraged to do as a padawan. Time wasn’t a construct in the waves of energy that bound the Galaxy together, and it was easy for him to pick on the threads, a part of him restored as he regained equilibrium, just like the voice said.

“I owe you more than you can know, Sahsa,” Cass said as he straightened, feeling her Force Sensitivity more clearly now, seeing with the eyes of an experienced Jedi. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Master Jedi,” Sahsa replied, reaching out to hold her father’s hand, which had fallen on her shoulder. “This is repayment of my debt to you. You saved me from a fate I can’t comprehend.”

Cass smiled at her, relaxing, finding he was unable to completely step back from this new burgeoning awareness of the Force’s movements. That… might be a bit of a problem. He’d have to figure it out later.

“I could hardly abandon you,” he glanced toward her father. “I’m sorry. I admit I overheard you talking about your predicament at a cantina a few days ago.”

“You gave me back my daughter, Master Jedi. That’s enough for me to be indebted to you for a life time, me, and many of the other parents who lost their children. Whatever else you were doing in that base, all of us will be more than willing to overlook it, I promise you.” The Selkath looked toward the exit of the large courtroom. “We should get going. I can keep you all up for the night, but I imagine you’d like to stop and get something to eat, first. It’s almost rush here on the surface, so we’d best hurry.”

He set off, Sahsa following him, Bindo and Bastila not far behind, though Bindo cast Cass a knowing look over his shoulder.

Watching them walk away, fully intending on following them after he dealt with the sudden relief and gratitude that had waylaid him, he wasn’t aware Carth was standing next to him until he felt a hand fall on his arm. “I know that look.”

“Which look?” Cass asked, looking down into Carth’s face, furrowing his brow.

“The way you look at Bastila,” Carth said blandly, and then sighed. “Come on, Cass, I was married.”

Cass opened and closed his mouth, debating denying it for a moment, but knowing it was futile. Carth could see right through him, just like Bindo could, just like everyone on the damn Hawk probably could by this point. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, smiling sheepishly. “She drives me mad, Carth. Both figuratively and literally.”

“I can tell,” Carth said flippantly, a stern shadow falling across his face a moment later. “Listen, I don’t know how deep this goes, but-- Well. I do know that Jedi aren’t allowed to…”

“I’ve never let what I’m allowed to do stop me before,” Cass said. “Besides, at this point, it’s up to her. I’m pretty sure I’ve already made my feelings on the subject clear.”

“All I’m saying is that I can see this leading to a lot of heartbreak. Bastila and I do a lot of talking, believe it or not, and I don’t think she realizes she might be able to hurt you.” Carth’s words were painfully earnest, enough for Cass’ eyes to snape to him, watching the man’s face, brow furrowed with deep concern. “She looks up to you. You know that, right?”

Cass was tempted to joke about everyone looking up to him, but he knew that would just be an excuse. Instead, he sighed, trying to force himself not to brush off the issue with humor or distraction. “I know.” He said as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m not asking for her to fall into my arms, Carth, just… Acknowledge what this is so I can deal with being hurt and preserve our friendship. I’m… pretty sure I know how this story ends, and it isn’t with a happily ever after.”

Not for him, anyway.

“I don’t hold it against her. She thinks I’m above this -- This being the fact that I…” That he what? Loved her? “The truth is, I’m not. I’m fine with what I feel. I don’t think it will somehow take over my life. I just want closure.”

He heaved a sigh. “Anyway, they’ve gotten ahead of us. We’d better hurry and catch up.”

Cass didn’t want for Carth to respond, wanting to put the conversation behind him and focus on what was ahead.

He’d spent enough time today dwelling in hypothetical pasts and unexpressed emotions. It was time to push that aside for the time being and focus on something he could control, like his hunger and personal hygiene.

Everything else was up to Bastila now.

* * *

Cass spent so much time in the ‘fresher that it was dark by the time he came out, hair wet, feeling particularly numb. As much as he resolved to not think about the past, he sure ended up thinking about the past a lot, and the way it ended up tangling with his feelings for Bastila in new and unpleasant ways.

_She’s keeping things from you. You’re attracted to her. She’s attracted to you._

The voice prattled on as Cass rummaged for clean clothes among the things Canderous and Juhani had brought them from the Hawk after they’d comm’d the ship for him. Canderous had gone on for thirty minutes about Revan and Malachor V when Cass had asked him, which had honestly been diverting, the group sitting around and listening to old war stories like Cass was still their wily smuggler leader turned increasingly awkward Jedi Padawan.

He wasn’t, really, but it was still nice to pretend that this experience hadn’t changed him.

“What’s your point?” Cass asked the voice out loud, holding his towel around his waist, leaning across the small bed to search through the pile of clothes he’d thrown on the other side, even though he could have walked around it. “She’s allowed to have secrets.”

_You could use her attraction to you to extract them._

“Are you stupid?” Cass hissed, finally managing to at least find something to cover his legs. “No, don’t answer that. I know it would work, but I’m not going to do it.”

The voice didn’t respond, and Cass tossed his towel aside, dressing his lower half quickly before returning to his rummaging. It was then that there was a knock on the door, Cass calling for them to enter, realizing a bit too late that he should have asked who was knocking when Bastila entered the room.

Grasping the blanket draped over the back of one of the chairs, Cass wrapped it around his shoulders like a cape, clearing his throat as she stared blankly at him. “Uh… Hello?”

“Is this a bad time?” Bastila asked, her eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at him. “I can…”

“Come back later?” Cass asked. “Bastila, how long did it take for you to get the courage to come talk to me the first time?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she took a deep breath. “You’re right. I… Can we sit?”

“Sure,” Cass said, taking one of the chairs while Bastila sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands instead of his face; he could sense her nervousness, and felt his own rising in response. “What is this about, Bastila?”

“You don’t know?” she asked him, her face snapping up, looking at him with wide, blue eyes. “I… I thought it would be obvious.”

Cass sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, painfully aware of the fact that they were completely alone together in the room. “Right. Our… Uh, mutual feelings Have you been… thinking about that?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” she asked, brows knitting together in annoyance. “When you were arrested, I was horrified. My mind was dominated by thoughts of you, of what would happen if you were convicted... “ She took a deep breath, “I realized that I can’t deny that I have feelings for you any longer.”

Cass’ spine went ramrod straight, and he stared at her openly, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. Quickly, he cleared his throat and snapped his mouth shut, rubbing the back of his neck more fiercely, taking a deep breath, and speaking. “Oh. Uh. I knew that already. I’m glad you… I… I guess I’m honestly not sure what to say.”

“Either am I,” Bastila admitted, sucking in a deep breath before continuing. “You’re baffling to me. I… Find myself thinking about you when I shouldn’t, looking at you without realizing what I’m doing. I worry about you, not just as a friend, but as…” She trailed off, and said nothing else, seeming to gather herself. “I’m frightened by how powerful my own emotions are. I don’t know what to do about this.”

“Afraid?” Cass asked, more to himself than to her. “I understand the fear. To be honest, this isn’t something I have much experience with, either. You confuse me, and sometimes I even feel guilty when I think about our age difference, or the fact that this all really blindsided me.” He laughed softly. “But I question why we’re even afraid. Is it because we don’t know what we’re doing? Or because we think that we’ll get in trouble if we’re caught?”

Bastila snorted at him. “Perhaps you feel that way. I’m afraid because I still think this is the wrong choice, that it’s wrong to feel this way and could put us both in danger of Falling.”

“Yes, my bare chest is quite a temptation, I understand,” he said blandly, watching a charming blush flare across her cheeks. “I think they only falling you’re in danger of is falling into my arms.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped, the tension breaking, leaving him relieved that the awkwardness had been left shattered in its wake. “I’m in no danger of anything because I have self-control, unlike you!”

“And yet you’re the one alone in a room with me,”Cass said, tone flat. “Come on, Bastila, I’m not going to hurt you. I thought we were past this whole you being afraid of me business. No one is going to drag anyone towards the Dark Side and acknowledging our feelings doesn’t mean we have to act on them.”

Though he realized, even as he said the words, that he _wanted_ to act on them.

He wanted to take her in his arms right now and… Really not follow that train of thought any further than he already had.

“I need more time,” she said, her face turning even more red as it dawned on him that she could sense what he was feeling and oh _fuck_. “I know what I feel, but I don’t know what to do about it. You… confuse me. Not just the way you act, but how you make me feel.”

“I understand,” he said, trying to cool off. “I… You should know,” he cleared his throat. “I mean not that it’s not already blatantly obvious, but I do want something with you. I’ll, uh, respect whatever decision you make,” Even if he was upset about it, even if he asked her reasoning, “but, uh… Um. I don’t want this to end. I want it to be something more.”

Her features softened, and for a moment it seemed like she was about to say something, but before she could, Cass was on his knees on the ground, clutching his chest as he felt a pain so paralyzing he could not making himself scream. Instead, he gasped for air like some kind of fish, fighting for oxygen, a million images flashing through his mind like white hot sparks, igniting his awareness that something _terrible_ had happened.

Dantooine.

_Dantooine._

“Dantooine,” he finally managed, but only because he could feel Bastila’s warm hand on his back, grounding him. “Malak has done something. I … I don’t know what. But it’s horrible, and it’s… so much death…”

She was trembling, too, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse with pain. “I can feel it, too. The echoes… Cass…”

“After we get the map,” he said, trying to right himself, everything else before this moment feeling petty in comparison, “we need to go to Dantooine.What if he… He did what he did to Taris, Bastila?”

He’d never mentioned it to her out of respect for her boundaries, but he knew she still had nightmares about Taris.

“I couldn’t live with myself if,..” she muttered so quietly that he didn’t think he was intended to hear. “I agree. We have to go back. If there’s anything we can do… It is our duty as Jedi to help in any we are able.”

Cass pushed himself upright, gently reaching out to pull Bastila against his chest, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. “Malak chose to destroy Taris. It wasn’t our fault. We couldn’t have known how far he would go.”

She curled up against his side, small and helpless, a stark contrast from the way she usually held herself, straight and proud. “He’d already destroyed Telos. We should have been more careful. There had to be another way, I…” Bastila took a shuddering breath. “I failed them, Cassus.”

“You didn’t fail anyone,” he said. “No one can save everyone. Not even a Jedi.”

Deep in his soul, he knew he was more guilty of thinking he could than anyone else in the Galaxy, but he’d never admit it to her.

Not out loud.

Instead, he just held her, wrapping both his arms around her, willing himself to be strong enough for both of them in that moment. Bastila didn’t always have to be a tower of strength. He wanted her to be able to trust in him, to lean on him when she had to.

He wanted her to feel safe with him.

“Thank you,” she said. “I suppose I just feel like I have to be the one to fix everything. For so long everyone has been relying on me to save the Galaxy, I guess I just… Forget I’m not alone.”

“I’m here, Bastila,” he said. “We can do this together. Neither of us is alone anymore.”

He felt her burrow farther into his side, silence passing between them, taking comfort in the other’s presence. Cass thought it was funny that something he’d originally thought of as a leash, his Bond with Bastila, had so quickly become a source of comfort for them both, something to mitigate the sense of responsibility they both felt, the destiny that had been foisted on them by the Jedi Council.

Saviors of the Galaxy, accused of brashness and arrogance behind closed doors and lauded as the only hope for peace in public. A paradox, balancing between self-confidence and self-doubt, walking a tightrope of good behavior, destined to either reach the other side or Fall. And if they did Fall, then what? Was it their fault? Or the Council who had never supported them? The Order who had made them an outsider among the people they should have been able to trust?

She and Revan had more in common than he had ever imagined, not the antithesis of the Dark Lord, but his shadow, drifting along after him in his wake.

It was a pattern he desperately wanted to break.

Bastila -- good Bastila, kind Bastila, the compassionate Bastila who believed so much that she had to stop Malak for the sake of the Galaxy (even if it was tinged with a desire for glory) -- deserved better than to be another Revan.

He’d cast her a lifeline, if he could.

She only had to take it.

“Come on,” he muttered to her. “My shoulder is falling asleep. Besides, I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.”

“You’re always hungry,” she grumbled, though her blue eyes were soft with affection that made his heart ache for her, “but I suppose it’s justified, in this case.”

Cass laughed as he pulled away, reaching out to offer her his hand, which she took, making him hope against hope that this could be more -- that they could be more -- than just a hypothetical, a maybe, a dream.

“So magnanimous,” he said with a lazy smile. “What would I do if you didn’t tether me to reality?”

“Float off into the clouds, I imagine,” she said as she released his hand, still smiling, which was more than he could have hoped for a moment ago. “Or get caught up in another adventure. It’s a good thing you have me then, isn’t it?”

Cass smiled at her, his expression softer than usual, less guarded.

“It’s a good thing,” he agreed.

Her face turned pink, but she still smiled, and he swore it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

 

* * *

The Ambassador looked nervous when Cass handed him the droid’s memory core, pushing it across his desk, Canderous, Carth, and Bastila standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“So, Ambassador,” he drawled. “Are you going to help me get what I want now that I was almost exiled from the planet for you?”

He watched the man flounder, flopping about like a fish on deck, before he sighed and nodded. “You’re right. You would have taken the fall for that. You’ve proven your loyalty and deserve the truth.”

“I’m a Jedi, Ambassador,” Cass said, tapping the top of the saber at his side. “If my loyalty was ever in question in this specific instance, I should have been told.”

The Ambassador blanched, but didn’t comment, forging forward instead. “I’ll give you access to a submarine you can use to get down to the ocean floor, but you need to be made aware of something.” He sighed heavily, grasping the memory core in both of his hands. “This contains footage of an underwater kolto extraction facility, one neither the Empire nor the Selkath know of … At least not on a large scale.”

“Do you know what a bad idea this is?” Carth asked from behind Cass. “You could get the entire Republic’s kolto supply taken for a little extra on the side, and then where would we be?”

“I am aware, but I feel -- and certain elements in the Selkath government agree with me -- that we need an edge over the Sith. Our supply needs to be better than theirs, bigger than theirs, or their smaller force will…” He trailed off, and Cass knew why.

“Because their smaller force is more skilled and will overwhelm the Republic if you don’t have more kolto,” Cass finished. “So then why the bounty hunters?”

“You know about the bounty hunters?” The Ambassador asked, eyes wide.

“I'm a Jedi,” Cass pointed out, “and also, I’m not deaf. Everyone is talking about the Republic hiring bounty hunters. If you’re going to do something this big, you should be better at keeping your ear to the ground and paying attention to what people are saying about your operation.”

Once more, the Ambassador was left momentarily speechless, though he seemed to recover more quickly this time. “We… We were sending them down to Hrakert Rift because we’ve lost contact with the facility. None of them have returned.”

Cass looked over his shoulder, exchanging looks with his crewmates, all of whom looked just as annoyed as he did. Glancing back toward the Ambassador, he leaned forward, pressing his hands flat against the official's desk, watching the man lean away from him. “So you’re sending us into another death trap, Ambassador? Were you even planning on telling us?”

“I… I…”

Leaning away, feeling the man was sufficiently intimidated, Cass placed his hands on his hips and fixed the Ambassador with a stare. “I need to get down to the Rift. Take me to your submarine.”

Cass’ request was honored, and the four of them crowded into a small submarine, making Cass feel a bit like a large fish crammed into a small can. They descended through the depths, an oddly familiar sensation, though Canderous looked claustrophobic, face green and clammy. Cass simply leaned against one of the walls, looking out the porthole, watching the facility slowly grow closer.

“Sharks,” Carth said as the submarine started to angle itself toward the moonpool. “Lots of sharks. If we’re going to find a way to walk across the ocean floor, we’ll need to deal with them.”

“Right. Well my suggestion would be a sonar pulse,” Canderous replied. “Might damage them without causing us harm, but we’ll have to see if they have anything like that in the station.”

“Right,” Cass muttered. “Well, we’ll see what we can do. I like approximately none of this,” he admitted. “From the secret government conspiracies, to the sharks, to the missing mercenaries. This is a mess.”

Bastila said nothing, her face pale and drawn until the moment they rose from the ocean into the moonpool, stumbling out of the submarine into the open. The entire room smelled like water and brine, even more strongly than Ahto City, but there was a distinct metallic tinge Cass recognized --

“Blood,” Bastila said, drawing Cass’ attention to the red dripping into the water, eyes following it toward a body, a Twi’lek with a gash in his chest, like teeth had ripped into it. “We’re not alone here.”

The words had barely come out of their mouth when an ear-splitting screech echoed through the moonpool and a dark shape arced through the air, leaping at them. Cass immediately drew his saber, standing his ground, holding the blade up and watching their attacker impale themselves on it.

Stepping back, he looked at the crumpled form, a Selkath in a lab coat, name tag still clipped to it.

“What the hell was that?” Canderous asked, his voice echoing, Cass’ eyes noting the bloody mouth of the scientist he’d just killed.

“I think this is what killed the bounty hunters,” he said, leaning down. “Which means that this entire facility could be the stalking ground of zombie Selkath.”

“Zombie Selkath?” Canderous whistled lowly. “Shit. That’s going to be a pain to deal with. What do you think caused it?”

“No idea,” Cass said as he straightened. “I think that’s going to require a bit more investigation on our part. Thankfully, we’re more skilled than these bounty hunters.”

“What a silver lining,” Carth muttered. “We’re stuck in the science lab of our nightmares with zombie Selkath, but at least we’re good at fighting! If they swarm us we’re more likely to live!”

“It could be worse,” Cass said. “We could be out there, in the ocean, with the sharks. At least we can deal with the Selkath the usual way, though honestly I’d rather not kill them if we can help it. We should try to avoid them, if we can.”

“I agree,” Bastila said, stepping up to his side. “Perhaps some outside interference is affecting them. Perhaps they can be saved.”

“If they come after me, I’m shooting them,” said Canderous. “I’m not becoming fish food, like our friend over here.” He motioned toward the Twi’lek with a jerk of his head. “I’d like to get out of here alive.”

“This doesn’t usually happen, but I agree with Ordo,” Carth replied. “I’m not getting eaten by a rabid Selkath.”

“They don’t appear to be eating people,” said Bastila, giving Carth a dry look, her lips tugged into a small frown. “They’re simply maiming them to death.”

“Because that makes it so much better,” snapped the Captain.

“Children, hush.”

Cass held up a hand, straightening his back and staring into the distance. He could hear the sounds of the facility, soft instruments humming in the distance, the shuffling of feet against metal tiles, a distant echo as something was knocked from somewhere high and the general noise of water from outside of the moonpool.

“This facility… How big did it look for above? Did anyone else see the second building? And the rift?” Cass looked over his shoulder at the other three, finding their expressions somewhat blank. “I think that the access to the Rift is in the second facility, but there’s no moonpool there, which means we’re going to need to find an environmental suit or two and make it over there.”

“Then we’ll have to search this building,” Canderous said, “while avoiding the zombies? Sounds like fun.”

“Maybe for a Mandalorian,” Carth grumbled. “I think for the rest of us it’s going to be a bit of a chore.”

An ear splitting shriek sounded in the distance.

“Look alive, everyone,” Cass said as he ignited his lightsaber, casting a purple glow onto the metal below them. “Something tells me this is going to be a long day.”


	24. Part Three; Chapter Twenty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, guys. The very last chapter before the Leviathan. 
> 
> Are you ready?

The place was abandoned, Cass discovered, except for the Selkath lumbering about. 

All the equipment was still functional, though the hallway was littered with corpses of trapped scientists, leaving them the unwitting stars of a horror holo. He could deal with that, he discovered, as he scrolled through a computer’s files, reading about the last things that had happened before the research teams started being slaughtered by their coworkers. 

It was always so easy to fall into whatever role the moment demanded of him -- charismatic leader, noble defender of the innocents, sarcastic and charming ringleader, or, in this case, witty detective. 

“Find anything yet?” Canderous asked from one of the doorways, voice rough, everything in the lab tense.

At least they screamed before they attacked you. 

“Well, I downloaded a map of this facility,” he replied. “I know where we’ll find a sonar gun and environmental suits. Please keep in mind, though, slicing isn’t exactly my strong suit.” He scrolled through the data, looking for anything unusual, when a scream was mentioned, something that had shaken both bases to their foundation. “Ah.” 

“Ah?” Bastila said as she leaned over his shoulder, her eyes scanning the data for what had caught his attention. “What have you discovered?”

“I think maybe they pissed something in the Rift off,” he said, scrolling a bit farther, “and that whatever it was drove the Selkath mad.” 

“Imagine that,” drawled Carth from the other door, “an illegal kolto mining operation was a _ bad  _ idea. If this gets back to the Selkath, the Republic is doomed.” 

There was another ear-splitting screech and the sound of a blaster cannon firing followed by a heavy thud as a body hit the ground. “We need to deal with whatever’s happening here, get the damn map piece, and get out of here, or we’re doomed,” Canderous said. “As fun as this is, we don’t have all damn day, and the ocean is getting darker.” 

Cass pulled away from the computer, not bothering to shut it down. Grasping the hilt of his saber, he glanced to Bastila, who was already falling into step behind him, Carth and Canderous taking the rear, defending their group from behind. 

“It’s not as big as it looks from above,” Cass explained, leading them toward the store rooms connected to the pressurized chambers used to enter and exit this facility. “Just keep on guard.” 

There wasn’t much need for his warning. 

As it turned out, this part of the facility was much quieter than the other, void of the omnipresent feelings of eyes on their backs. Travel went more quickly without mad Selkath impeding their progress every few moments, and it didn’t take long for them to reach their destination, sorting through the stores to find what they needed. 

Unfortunately, there was far less of what they needed than Cass thought there would be. 

A sonar gun and a half, and four diving suits of the one size fits all variety, though three of them had rips in the fabric somewhere. That left them with no choice but to send someone out into the rapidly darkening waters with one of the helmet mounted lights, something he wasn’t about to draw lots for. 

Snatching the suit from Canderous’ hands, ignoring the look Bastila gave him, he helped himself into the monstrous suit, so large it even dwarfed him, pressing a button once he was inside. He felt it pressurizing around him, the diving suit forming to a suitable shape to keep him dry and safe from the water pressure, sure to be that much worse around the Rift. 

“Cassus--” Bastila began.

“I”m going to need help with the lights,” he said, cutting her off. “I don’t think I can get them on myself.” 

“Cassus!” 

Cass turned to Bastila, holding the diving helmet underneath one arm, taking in her expression -- Exasperated, worried, more than a bit annoyed, flush with her feelings. 

“We both know I’m the only one who can actually find the map, Bastila,” he told her firmly, watching the color drain from her face. “It has to be me. I promise I’ll be back.” 

She took a shuddering breath, and reached out hesitantly with one hand, placing it on his shoulder. Looking up into her face, still pale, he could sense her worry for him. “Please be careful, Cassus. We can’t come looking for you if…” 

Quietly, he covered her hand with his own, marveling at how much smaller she was momentarily, grateful when she relaxed. “I know,” he said softly. “But this is me we’re talking about. Haven’t I survived worse?” 

She smiled thinly at him. “You have.” 

“Then let’s get this over with,” he replied, pulling his hand away to put on the helmet, letting Carth attach the lights. 

“It will be complete radio silence,” Carth said to him as he worked. “You’re on your own out there. Just… Don’t hesitate to come back if you need help.” 

“Need help?” Cass asked with a flippant laugh. “Me? I know what I’m doing.” 

Canderous snorted, but he ignored it, knowing it was meant in good nature. He had the Mandalorian’s respect, or Canderous wouldn’t follow him at all. That was just the way his people worked. 

_ It’s almost like you’re an expert or something of that nature.  _

Taking a deep breath, Cass looked over his shoulder one more time, clenching his fists at his side, squeezing the sonar gun for reassurance. He heard the hatch seal behind him, and the world around him hissed and whirled as it filled with water, world around him taking on a distorted effect, like he was looking through glass. At least it was still clear through the helmet, he thought as the second hatch opened, because sound was suddenly distorted, like living life in a massive dome. 

_ Range of vision is limited. Reach out with your senses. Trust your feelings.  _

Carth was wrong, Cass thought as he bounced quietly across the ocean floor, focusing his sights on the other facility, suddenly hoping that he didn’t need some kind of key code to get in. He wasn’t alone out here, dodging sharks, as he made slow progress toward the yawning Hrakert Rift. 

Cass had Revan. 

Taking a deep breath, Cass momentarily closed his eyes as he half crouched behind a pillar, supporting the towers that held the solars panels which helped power this particular facility. The sounds of the ocean, the ever moving tides as the caught on rock and metal and sand, faded into the background, making him someone else. 

A different man. 

He was somewhere else, then, on the bridge of a ship in the ice cold depths of space, staring out at the surface of Telos, still whole, through a visor, displaying various technical read outs. His senses were attuned to every life on the ship, to every corner and crevice of the behemoth, enhancing his understanding of what technology already told him. 

Life. 

Sparking across the Galaxy, the synapses of the Living Force, sending its messages from world to world, sector to sector, purpose unknown until -- !

Cass spun, raising the sonar gun, firing without seeing, watching as a dark shape that had been barrelling toward him went rocketing in another direction. 

His hand fell back to his side. 

“You’re right,” he said aloud, voice loud inside of his own helmet, thunderous in the near silent depths of the ocean. “It’s not a fluke. It’s like picking back up where I left off. Taris… Wasn’t beginner’s luck, was it?” 

_ You’re awfully willing to talk about it where only I can hear you. As charming as this is, though, I don’t think we really have time for this conversation.  _

“Always so glib,” Cass replied, “but you’re right. I already told myself I wouldn’t bother until after Korriban. I should focus on what’s in front of me, and that is…” 

He looked across the ocean floor, visibility rapidly decreasing, phantom cliffs looming in the distance. “A whole lot of nothing, actually.” 

_ We’ve already discussed that you don’t have to see with your eyes… Jaybird. And one more thing -- _

“I thought you were the one saying we didn’t have time for this conversation?” Cass asked as he closed his eyes, making his way slowly across the ocean floor toward the second facility, reaching out with his senses to feel the synapses firing. 

_ I’ m the one who made the rules, thus I can change them.  _

Cass raised his arm and fired again, bounding forward, not wanting to lose his momentum to stop and check on the accuracy of the Force's aim. “So what are you changing them to this time, Oh Dark Lord of the Sith?” 

_ Make her tell you now.  _

“She’s not here now,” Cass said irritably, bouncing along the bottom of the ocean like it had the gravity of a small moon. “Makes it a bit impossible.”

_ Now who’s glib?  _

A pause. 

Cass said nothing. 

_ You know what I mean.  _

Cass fired again. 

The synapses flared. 

“I do.” He sighed heavily, a bit shocked when his hand touched metal and his eyes flickered open, looking up at the second facility. 

How fast had hee been  **_moving_ ** ? 

“Why now?”

_ You shouldn’t go to Korriban without knowing the truth.  _

Cass paused, hands hovering over the locking mechanism before he pressed the button, listening to the sound of the lock hissing as it released. He didn’t respond to Revan, letting the words sink in, penetrate his understanding of the situation at hand. 

_ Korriban will destroy you, Jaybird, especially if you go in unprepared. It’s too much for you to handle without basking in the fullness of who you are.   _

“Basking?” Cass muttered under his breath. “Kriffing hell, you’re so… so…  **_much_ ** .” 

Laughter filled the back of his mind, though it quickly faded as the door opened and Cass bounded inside, replaced by a quiet air of contemplation. Pulling the door behind him shut, Cass waited in silence for Revan to say something, wondering if he had vanished, only to have him return at the last moment as the water drained from the room. 

_ It will change you, but you shouldn’t fear the change. Accept what you are, Jaybird. Embrace it.  _

The door to the second facility swung open leaving Cass in a long hallway that likely lead to the junction where he’d find the access to the kolto pipelines and the Rift. The Map was around this area, that much was sure. He could feel it, through the Force, pulsing like a dark beacon, all too familiar, though he hadn’t known he could feel them until now. 

Removing the diving helmet, Cass tucked it underneath his arm, momentarily shedding the suit so that he could creep more silently down the hall. He had no idea what was in this facility, whether it be Selkath or other dangers lurking in the shadows, and he’d rather be armed and mobile. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he’d come back for his gear. 

Creeping down the abandoned hallways, Cass reached out with his senses, detecting life somewhere in inside the facility. Before long, he found what appeared to be a mostly abandoned observational laboratory of some sort, though he had no idea what they had been observing here. Deciding he had no time to contemplate, he walked over toward the door on the other side of the room, the sensation that he was being watched making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

A second later, he was blinded by floodlights, bracing himself against the nearest wall to stop himself from tripping over the seams in the metal tiles. “Kriffing hell!” 

He should have been more careful! 

This was clearly some kind of trap, and he’d walked haplessly into it.

“Attention, intruder,” boomed a male voice through the intercom. “Your termination has been scheduled to prevent further contamination from our sister facility. If you are sane, we would like to personally apologize. We have nothing against you, we simply can’t risk being eaten.” 

It was then that Cass heard the sickening sound of a vacuum. 

Suffocation. 

Desperation and fear momentarily flooded his body, leaving him paralyzed with his hands against the wall as his mind wasted time racing for a solution. Gritting his teeth, swallowing the emotions down, he let them tingle through his limbs as he pushed thought away to rely on instinct, feeling along the wall for some kind of  control panel. 

If he could shut the power to the room off, he could save his own life --

And then deal with whatever bantha-brain had thought this was a good idea. 

The room seemed larger than it had when he walked into it, and the sound of the vacuum blared loudly, a reminder of his imminent death by suffocation. 

Stumbling around like a newborn, Cass fingers finally found a control panel, certain an eternity had passed. Starting to feel faint, he grasped the hilt of his saber, the floodlights making sweat streak down the back of his neck as he ignited the blade and plunged it into the box. 

A few moments later he was gasping for air in the dark, cool room, bracing himself against the wall as he caught his breath. 

Saber still grasped in his hand, he turned around to face the black mirror-surface of the glass, staring at it blankly for a moment before reaching out his hand, anger clenching its glacial fingers around his heart. With a push, the glass shattered, raining down on the people on the other side, their shouts of distress oddly satisfying. 

“Good evening,” he said, glancing between the two of them -- scientists in white lab coats -- smiling grimly. “That was quite the introduction, but if you’d don’t mind, I’d like some answers, and I don’t see anyone else here to give them to me, do you?” 

They couldn't scramble to appease him fast enough.

_ That was oddly savage for you, Jaybird. Reverting back to acting on instinct?  _

Swallowing the voice and his sudden guilt, Cass dismissed his blade and hooked his saber back to his belt. 

He had to look like a madman to these people. 

_ They tried to kill you.  _

Jedi forgave. 

For once, Revan said nothing, but he didn’t need to. 

Cass already knew that he wasn’t exactly a model Jedi. 

“Want to explain to me why you tried to kill me?” Cass asked, crossing his arms over his chest, staring down at the both of them. 

“We… We thought you were affected by that giant shark’s shriek,” said the voice that had spoek over the com. “I’m… I’m sorry, Master Jedi, please…” 

Cass frowned sharply. 

Giant shark?

He knew about the shriek, but… 

Why would it affect the Selkath?

“Explain,” Cass said. 

Impatient as he was to get out of here, Cass had the feeling he was in for a long night. 

* * *

The Rift extended kilometers without end, cutting deep into the earth, guarded by a giant shark that one of the scientists had urged Cass to kill with an unstable toxic they had developed to repel the smaller sharks. Considering that this thing seemed to be connected to the Selkath, Cass didn’t really think it was a good idea, not when he walked out toward the machine that he was supposed to inject the neurotoxin into and it looked at him with intelligent black eyes.

For a moment he simply stood there, vial of toxin in his hand, staring into that large, oddly gentle face. He knew if he got too close, it would attack him, but from this distance it seemed to be simply sizing him up, judging what he would do. 

“I do have another option,” he told it, knowing it couldn’t hear him talking. “I could destroy the facility’s ability to process kolto. The scientists seem to think that will doom the Republic, though.”

_ They’ll get on without their boost. Remember what I said about making friends.  _

Cass didn’t respond out loud to the voice, amused that Revan was encouraging him to do the moral thing and save the shark. That being said, helping the Republic didn’t actually benefit his Empire, and… Well, alienating the Selkath wasn’t in anyone’s benefit. He was compelled to agree with the Dark Lord in this case. Diplomacy was the absolute best option available to him at the moment, and diplomacy didn’t involve exterminating a giant shark just to appease the Republic’s every whim. 

They weren’t always in the right. 

In fact, often they weren’t. 

Cass took a deep breath, turning back to the machine, eyes snapping back toward the shark when he felt something probing at the back of his mind, asking to be let in. The presence was permissive and questing, seeking, but with a question attached to the end. 

Would he open up? 

He looked up into that face again, reaching out toward the shark, remembering his experiences with the Krayt Dragon on Tatooine. Realizing very quickly that whatever this shark was, it wasn’t part of the scenery. There was nothing normal about this shark, not its size, nor its intelligence, nor the way it felt when he brushed its mind against it. 

This wasn’t wild life. 

This was something else.

Something more. 

It didn’t think in words, exactly, but feelings and images. Cass saw flashes of the kolto extraction facility being construction of the scientists poisoning the smaller sharks in this region, of the creature reaching out and asking the Selkath for help, and of his own arrival. With each was accompanied a powerful emotion -- confusion, despair, desperation and anger, and finally… 

Recognition? 

There was no time to contemplate that last part, however, not when the shark was moving on the conversation faster than he could possibly keep up. He saw himself overloading the machine, and then the shark leaving, and himself at the Starp Map across the little metal access bridge. And there was a sense of pleading, of please return this environment to equilibrium, to make the Rift as it should be once more. 

Cass reached out again, having already made his decision, promising the Shark as best as he could that he would help. Things would return to the way they were meant to be… The Imbalance here would be dealt with. 

The presence withdrew, and he took a moment to regain his bearings again, trying to recover his own sense of balance in the wake of being in contact with a mind so deeply emotive … and so very ancient. 

Taking a few quick breaths, Cass bounded over to the machine, examining the valves to figure out how to overload the compounds inside. He’d seen things like this before, and figured that if he could just overload the cylinders, everything would end up being okay. The Republic would never get their kolto, but they had to learn that the rules applied to them, too, even in times of war.

Carefully, Cass played with the settings on the machine, listening to the way it sounded, though it was difficult to hear through the helmet and the water. How long he kneeled on the ocean sand, he had no idea, but he worked diligently until he heard a loud hiss, followed by a muted pop as the machine started to steam and fizzle. 

Backing away as quickly as he could, Cass scuttled back in the sand, sitting and watching as bubbles rose from the machine in a storm and the lights on its front and sides flickered out. For a moment, he simply sat there, staring at the fried out husk of their mining equipment, the massive cylinders distorting the water around them as the radiated heat. 

“The Ambassador won’t be pleased,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet, “but then again, I’m not really sure I give a damn anymore.”

He would give anything to leave this planet behind, and now they almost could. 

Cass turned toward the metal access bridge, struck a second time by a wave of feelings that weren’t his own -- gratitude, joy, a sense of overwhelming peace. He stared up at the giant shark as it gave a loud screech, one that shook the ground beneath Cass’ feet, and slowly swam away, back into the depths of the rift. 

He watched it go until he could no longer see it, then made his way across the bridge, relieved when the Star Map opened with a wave of his hand. Once more, it bloomed, and he took down the data, a sense of fullness humming just at the edge of his consciousness as he realized how right this felt. 

Cass paused for a moment, standing in the depths of the ocean, staring at the expanse of space the Star Map displayed, lost in thought. He could think only of what Revan said at the trial the morning before, about trusting in the Force, about functioning well in the mystical and finding his home in the Force. 

Could it be that the Jedi had actually been  _ right  _ about something? 

He reached out to brush his fingers thoughtfully through a distant star, far from Mannan, his brow furrowed as he felt the Force ripple and flow around him like an ocean current. 

Could all of this actually be his destiny? 

Was he really meant to be here? 

_ Yes,  _ Revan whispered in the back of his mind, and for a fleeting moment Cassus could almost feel robes billowing around his ankles in a strong wind and the weight of a mask on his face.  _ One way or another, you were meant for this, Jaybird. The Force calls to you as it called to me. No matter what else happens, this is who you are.  _

It was then that the pieces finally slid into place, a lump forming in his throat that he had to swallow past, quickly replaced by words that burned hot, questions longing for answers. Hypotheticals scattered like waves against the pillars of Ahto City, placed by unspoken certainties, things he couldn’t utter, even to himself. 

Inside, he found a longing for confirmation, though he knew what the answer was, and he knew it would break him. 

If the gap between he and Revan had been closing, the chasm that once existed sealing into a mere fissure, it wasn’t because Revan was overshadowing Cass. 

It had never been because Revan was overshadowing Cass. 

Revan was right -- The Force called to them in the same way, and Revan’s interests were his own. They had always been his own, from the very beginning, not two paths drawn together, but one path, refaced. 

In his mind’s eye, he could finally see Malak’s face clearly, sneering at him. He had no mouth, but his eyes were just as expressive, and Cass’ heart turned cold, lodged solid in his chest. It was almost like hatred, but tinged with something else, an ache and longing not so different from what he felt in Bastila’s presence, but without the romantic implications. 

_ I miss you. But this is your fault.  _

It was his own voice in his head, not Revan’s. 

Burning slag searing his flesh, plasma arcing along his skin, every breath he took labored -- 

And then… 

Nothing. 

He pushed the thoughts back, his eyes burning with unshed tears, hands trembling. 

“No,” he said. “I am _ not _ you. I am  **_not_ ** Revan.” 

Without waiting for a response, knowing one wouldn’t come anymore anyway, Cass bounded back across the ocean floor, back towards his friends and the nominal distraction of their presence. He couldn’t think about this, not when it replaced his still warm heart with a stone, one that radiated the cold he’d felt on the Behemoth, a coldness he could still feel in his nightmares.  

He wanted to feel Canderous’ presence, loud like thunder and with twice the bite, to remember what Carth’s mind felt like, jagged until you were sucked in, until you were friend, and then it didn’t let you go, teeth turning into a fortress. Juhani’s playful and clever observation, Mission’s quiet and sad resilience, Zalbaar’s wisdom and strength, Bindo’s thorny kindness and watchfulness, anything but the empty and the cold. 

Even the droids, clever T3 and vicious HK, would be a comfort to him now. 

But what he really wanted was Bastila. She grounded him as no one else could, her mind and spirit not quite gentle, but soft in their uncertainty. No matter what she did or did not understand about his situation, she was still there for him, reaching for him even though she was still afraid to, her kindness far outshining her practicality and awkwardness as her most defining trait. She was beautiful, so beautiful that it made him wonder what she could possibly see in him, the shredded remains of another man’s soul. 

He couldn’t understand what she saw in him, why she was caught in his gravity. 

His melancholy thoughts stopped in their tracks the moment he reached the door he’d exited from what felt like not so long ago, sensing another presence with that of his friends. Cass could feel Bastila’s stress pulse in his mind like a beacon and wasted no time slamming the button to open the door, waiting as the chamber drained of water and he struggled from the environmental suit, saber igniting, casting a purple glow on the wet walls. 

The moment the second set of doors opened, Cass leapt into the room, intercepting the red saber with his own just as it was about to land a blow across Canderous’ shoulder. His eyes scanned the other man, dark skinned, bald, but bearded, garbed in red and black. In the depths of his orange eyes, Cass saw recognition, rage flaring in response, reaching out with the Force to send the man crashing into a wall. 

The man only laughed. 

“I’d heard rumors,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “How perfect that you’ve arrived now when it’s your head I’ve come for. My Master will reward me for bringing it to him.” 

“Your Master can come at get it himself, Apprentice,” Cass hissed through his teeth, advancing on the Sith, his strides long, spinning his saber in place as he switched stances. “I’m sick of playing cat and mouse.” 

“You’ve been a thorn in Lord Malak’s side for too long,” growled the Sith, holding his ground, useless against Cass’ focused aggression. “Your arrogance will be your undoing.” 

Cass only laughed, the sound echoing through the lab as his strides lengthened until he was charging the Sith, bearing down on him with blows as precise as they were forceful. He drove the apprentice back, step by step, testing him, making note of his footwork, looking for weaknesses in his defenses. His instincts were honed so well that he could detect blows before they landed, Malak’s little stooge standing very little real chance against him. 

But this wasn’t Malak’s intended apprentice, was it? 

Was it all convenience? Send in his apprentice to get killed so that there was an opening? 

Either way, Cass still had to end him here and now. 

With a surgical strike to the Sith’s wrist, Cass forced him to drop his lightsaber, switching his grip on his own to his other hand so he could take advantage of the opening he’d created. Cass drove forward, lashing out with a grunt, his saber slicing neatly through the apprentice’s neck, his head landing with a thud on the ground. 

Breathing heavily, he watched as the body fell, shoulders heaving, his saber humming angrily at his side. 

“Cass?” 

Bastila’s voice drew him back from his trance, his mind and emotions moving again, snapping back from whatever place they’d been hibernating during the duration of that fight. “I’m fine,” he said, breathing out. “Just went into a bit of a battle trance. Sorry about that. You all okay?” 

“I’m… I’m fine,” Carth said, rolling his shoulder. “He knocked me over when he came in the room, but it’s just a bruise. You look like hell, though. What happened out there?” 

Cass looked between Carth, who was staring at him with an expression of open concern, Canderous, who looked expectant, and Bastila, who was hiding her worry behind a resigned frown. He sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck, his tired smile probably helping his case. “Giant shark. It drove the Selkath mad. I destroyed the kolto extractor and it went away.” A quick intake of breath, and he was speaking before anyone could interrupt him or otherwise respond. “Speaking of the Selkath, we’d better hurry back to the surface before they get suspicious.” 

Bastila looked like she wanted to say something, and Cass did want to talk to her, just not in front of Carth and Canderous. Later, he told himself, as the walked back through the halls, finding dazed Selkath scientists in the presence of uniformed Selkath Cass immediately recognized as law enforcement. 

Korriban could wait. 

He needed answers. 

Right now, the most pressing thing in his life was the presence of the Selkath coming toward them, muttering about his presence at  _ another _ crime scene amongst themselves. 

He faced them proudly, glad for the distraction their criminal law system provided. 

* * *

“You are aware, that in my thirty two years of sitting on this panel, I have never had one man, native or Outworlder, sit before me twice in the span of forty-eight hours?”

Cass stood alone before a single Magister in his office, sitting in the chair across from him. His friends were being held elsewhere, to be released upon the resolution of this conversation. Already, he was confident that the outcome would be in his favor, but then again, he was relying on the Force. 

It felt like a bit of an unfair advantage. 

“I’m sorry I keep showing up. If it’s any consolation, I really don’t mean to. I think it’s just a consequence of being a Jedi,” he admitted. “What do you need to know, Your Honor?” 

The old Selkath sighed, as if burdened with a young child, and leaned forward over his desk, pressing the tips of his fingers together in front of him. “Why were you and your companions in an illegal kolto extraction facility hours after being caught nearly literally red handed in the Sith Embassy?” 

“That’s a very good question, and I assure you it has nothing to do with illegal kolto extraction,” Cass told him, “It’s Jedi business, Your Honor. I was there looking for an artifact, just to view it, not to take it from your planet.” 

He could see how skeptical the Magister was and heaved a deep sigh. “I shut down the extractor. The truth is, I had no more idea about it than you did yesterday. I only found out about it this morning, and when I got there, your scientists were crazy and had killed half the people in the place. They’d woken up some kind of giant shark with a scream that altered the way the Selkath were acting.” 

The Magister still didn’t seem convinced, but he seemed interested, which was enough to keep him listening. Cass ran his hand over his face, taking a deep breath. “I know how this sounds, Honorable Magister. The Republic was stupid for going behind your backs like this, even if there are elements in your government that approve. But I know what happened, and I’m Force Sensitive. A giant shark spoke to my mind and asked me to destroy the kolto extractor, so I did.”

The Magister separated his hands and drummed his fingers against the table, thinking deeply as he sized Cass up. “And the shark… It looked like one of our Firaxan? You said it screamed?” 

“You can verify my accounts with the files in the facility. You got to them before the Republic, so they're yours for the reading.” He held up his hands and spread his fingers. “I swear upon my name as a Jedi, Honorable Magister, I am not lying to you.” 

The Selkath sighed heavily, his look resigned. “I have no reason to doubt you, it’s just… The implications of what you are saying are grave. The Republic has committed a serious crime, one even more serious than the Sith, if your description is true.” 

An uncomfortable silence fell between them and the Magister covered his face with his hands, taking a few, gasping breaths, the sound wet. Cass waited, sensing he wasn’t yet done speaking, feeling on edge, unsure of what would happen next -- No matter what, it wouldn’t be good for the Republic. 

“What you’re describing is a legend of my people called the Progenitor. We believe it is our source. If what you are saying is true, and I believe it is, you have saved something more important than you know.” The Selkath breathed another wet sigh. “It means you will be venerated and cleared of all wrongdoing. Unfortunately, the Republic will not be so lucky, nor will the Sith.” 

“You plan to banish them from Manaan?” Cass asked, processing the information. “But… That will mean they’ll both lose the kolto. Magister, millions of people will die without you.”

“That is the way of things,” he said with a heavy sigh. “We have always been clear about our laws, Master Jedi. These are simply the consequences for breaking our laws. Surely you understand, as a Jedi. I must protect my people.” 

Cass bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth, his mind working at hyperspeed. “With all due respect, Your Honor,” he began, “you are punishing the citizens of both the Republic and the Empire for something that their leadership here did. If… If I may make a suggestion? I don’t mean to overstep.” 

He could feel the old Selkath considering him, but knew before the other man spoke that he would be listened to. There was something in the air between them, perhaps respect, perhaps a desire to understand Cass’ point, or the realization that his actions could genuinely condemn millions to die of their wounds. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure it mattered why, as long as the Magister listened. 

“Very well,” he sighed, waving his hand at Cass. “I believe you’ve proved yourself a friend of our people.” 

Allowing himself to be amused by the turn of phrase, Cass nodded and continued. ‘Exile the current Ambassadors and retinues from the planet. Then, approach the leadership of each government and ask for new Ambassadors to be sent. When you set up the new Embassies, make sure the terms include permanent Selkath liaisons to monitor their activities, that way you can avoid something like this happening again.”

He could feel the Magister considering his words, nodding solemnly in response. “Do you think that will work?” 

“The Senate and Darth Malak aren’t that stupid,” Cass replied. “The Senate knows when they’ve pushed too far. They’ll make sure not to go too far again. As for Darth Malak… Well, Darth Revan was his master. He’ll be careful if he’s been caught.” 

There was another wet sigh and the Magister nodded. “You’re right. I cannot deny that the kolto trade has left my people rich, and it would be morally wrong to abandon the rest of the Galaxy for the wrongdoing of a handful of Offworlders. Thank you, Master Jedi. I will see to it that your suggestions are implemented.” 

He stood, and began to walk toward the door. “You will always be welcome here,” he said. “But for now, I was under the impression that you were on an urgent mission, of sorts, as much trouble as you’ve been causing.” 

Cass laughed as the door opened, revealing he already had guests -- two more Selkath, both of whom he recognized.”That’s what I do, Your Honor. I make trouble for everyone around me. Thankfully, I’ve gotten pretty good at cleaning up my messes. Thank you for your time… And for considering my suggestion.” 

He bowed low, and the Magister bowed back before dismissing himself and returning to his office. 

Which left him alone with his guests. 

First, he glanced to Sahsa, nodding toward her to let her know he would be with her in a moment. Then he turned toward the other Selkath, the one who’d hired him to look into the bounty hunters, to his surprise, wearing a vaguely military looking uniform. 

“Looks like we both weren’t honest about who we were. I’m also assuming you’re already aware of what exactly happened to the hunters and how the Republic was involved.” He smiled, and the Selkath laughed, the noise a sloshing pop. “Wanted to thank me for my hard work?”

“Yes, in fact,” the man said. “As you may have guessed, I am an agent of the Selkath government. I was under deep cover to figure out precisely what the Republic was involved in. Thanks to you, my job has been completed.” 

He clasped his hands behind his back, standing straight and at attention. “You’ve done a great service for our people, Master Jedi. I personally don’t think just sending you on your way is enough, so allow me to reward you in full with the credits I promised.” 

Cass opened and closed his mouth, finding it was his turn to laugh. “Really?”

The agent of the Selkath government nodded. “I’ve already spoken with one of your companions about transferring the credits to your accounts, but I thought I would inform you in person.” 

Cass grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t know what to say other than thanks. This is going to save us. We’re running out of credits and need to do a restock run on our perishables.” 

“Thanks isn’t necessary. You saved our children and spared our creator,” the Selkath said in a way that implied a smile. “Speaking of children, I believe this one wants to speak to you. May the Progenitor watch over you, Master Jedi, or as they say amongst your Order, may the Force be with you.” 

He bowed, and with that, he was gone, leaving Cass alone with Sahsa. 

“I wanted to say goodbye,” she said. “You’ve changed my life and the way I understand myself. It… felt odd to just let you go without thanking you.” 

“You saved me from failing my objective,” Cass told her. “The Force used you to help save the Galaxy.” 

He watched her face carefully, sensing her surprise, reaching out and placing his hand on her shoulder. From here, he could see the ocean, glittering in the moonlight, and a smile crossed his lips. No matter what his life was after he confronted Bastila, no matter what happened to him tomorrow or the next day, he would always have this memory, and he would always have the Force. 

“Trust your senses, Sahsa. You are more powerful than you know. The Force will provide if only you look toward it for wisdom and guidance,” he told her. “And whatever you do, I’m just a holocall away.” 

“You’d let me ask you questions?” she asked quietly. 

“Of course. This isn’t goodbye,” he squeezed her shoulder as he pulled away. “The Force brought us together. It’s a divergence, Sahsa. We’ll always be connected.”

“Then I’ll speak to you again,” said the young Selkath confidently. “And maybe next time, I’ll know what I want from life.” She bowed low before him, seemed to deliberate for a moment, and then wrapped him in her arms until he relaxed into the hug. 

They stood there like that for a long time, Cass clinging back, not realizing he’d needed the comfort until just this moment. 

Distraction only lasted so long. 

“May the Force be with you, Master Jedi,” Sahsa said as she pulled away. 

“May the Force be with you,” he responded, mind spinning ahead toward Dantooine and the ominous pull he felt. 

Malak was waiting.

And, one way or another, so was Revan.

For a moment, he watched the reflection of moonlight on the waves, listening to the sound of the ocean, awash in the distinct feeling that this was the least peaceful moment he’d know in a very long time. 


	25. Part Three; Chapter Twenty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Twenty Five Chapters, everyone! We're nearly at 150 k. 
> 
> The first chapter of the Leviathan. Things will only get worse from here, so buckle in for the ride, and expect these to come quickly. 
> 
> I'm fired up!

“Course charted for Dantooine,” Carth said, leaning back in the pilot’s chair as they made the jump to hyperspace, Cass leaning back in the copilot’s seat. “You said you had some kind of vision?”

“Not a vision, just… a feeling,” he explained. “The pain of countless suffering people. I have no idea if it was real or not, but I don’t know what could manufacture that kind of pain. Malak isn’t like Bastila and I. He and I don’t share…” Cass paused for a moment and ran a hand over his face, “the kind of bond Bastila and I share.”

He could feel Carth’s eyes on him, concerned, which made him feel even more guilty. Cass rubbed the back of his neck, staring out the window ahead of them at the streaks of blue that zipped past, taking a deep breath. How could he feel like a traitor when he hadn’t done anything wrong?

“You okay?” Carth asked him. “You’ve been acting cagey since you came back from the depths alone. Did something happen out there that you’re not telling us about?”

“I don’t suppose you’d buy it if I said no?” Cass asked him, Carth arching his eyebrows his eyebrows in response. Cass sighed, tipping his seat back further, staring at the ceiling. “Right. It was just some uncomfortable revelations on the ocean floor. I realized Malak is just as fixated as me as he is on Bastila.”

Carth was quiet for a moment, and a part of Cass felt horrible for hiding the truth from him. He was certain, though, with as much as Carth hated Revan… Kriffing hell.

No, he wouldn’t think that.

Not now.

Not without confirmation, first.

The pit of dread in his stomach was paranoia, nothing else.

That’s all it was.

“I can see why that would bother you. Before all of this, you were a carefree smuggler whose biggest problem was worrying about getting enough credits to feed yourself and your crew.” Carth’s dark brow furrowed and he frowned sharply. “Now here you are, a Jedi on a mission to save the Galaxy. That’s quite the transition. Even if you’ve come into your own since I met you, everything’s been so fast paced, I wouldn’t blame you if you hadn’t had time to think about it until you were in complete isolation.”

“Everything just seems so impossible,” he admitted quietly, aware when Bastila walked into the room, her presence distinct. “From smuggler to Force knows what in a matter of months, my entire understanding of myself flipped on its head…” He laughed weakly. “And I have a bad feeling it’s only going to get worse.”

“Cassus?”

Cass looked over his shoulder at the soft voice, finding Bastila looking quiet and insecure. She never looked uncertain of herself, and it made him nervous, remembering suddenly how he’d held her in the aftermath of what he’d felt on Manaan. He rubbed the back of his neck again, standing a bit too quickly, his long legs catching on the chair as it turned. By the saving grace of the Force and his quick reflexes, he was able to catch himself, glaring at Carth when he snorted in amusement.

“Want to talk?” he asked, pretending that he hadn’t just humiliated himself, hoping that this personal drama could distract him from his other personal drama, though he wasn’t enthusiastic about her answer.

“Yes,” she said. “Though you likely won’t find the topic pleasant.”

Cass snorted, following her through the Hawk, toward one of the barracks, where the door closed behind them. She looked serious, and he knew what was coming before she even said it, bracing himself for the bad news, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bastila waited for a moment, shifting from foot to foot, looking up into his face with a determined expression that he couldn't help but admire.

_I have to admit I wasn't expecting this. Not now. The timing probably couldn't be worse._

When had Bastila ever had good timing? He asked himself. Her timing tended to be absolutely inconvenient for him, right on the cusp of when he was having some sort of personal dilemma or trying to fight for his life.

Then again, he wasn't sure there was ever a good timing for this kind of thing.

"You are a strong man," she began, and he steeled himself for what came next, certain she was trying to soften the blow in her own, fumbling way. "I have a great deal of respect for you. I have no idea how you can make decisions so confidently, and I am coming to realize that I am a child in the Force compared to you. However, you let your sentiment for others blind you, which is why I will not let myself be an obstacle to you."

He pressed his lips together in a tight line, sensing that she wasn't finished speaking as she began to pace. Cass wouldn't respond, not until she had finished with what she was saying, no matter how much his tongue burned in his mouth and his heart clenched in his chest.

"We are Jedi, Cassus. We have taken an oath, the both of us," her words were rushed, her face flushed, worrying her lip between her teeth. "We cannot allow whatever we feel to dominate our minds. We must put this aside, for the good of the Galaxy, and if you cannot do it, I must be strong enough to do it for the both of us."

Silence fell between them, Bastila still pacing, her footsteps suddenly driving Cass mad, echoing off the walls, crawling under his skin and then creeping up the back of his neck like a nest of kinrath. He sucked in a breath, and then reached out, grabbing her arm, watching her eyes grow wide with shock, blush spreading across her cheeks, looking up at him helplessly.

The expression felt like a slap, so he pulled back, rubbing the back of his neck and cursing in a string of languages, avoiding Galactic Basic.

"Bastila--" he began, cutting himself off, honestly not sure what he wanted to say or how to even say it.

_It hurts more than I thought it would._

And yet, even as he thought the words, he could feel himself clinging to one last desperate shred of hope that this could be salvaged, that he could make some argument good enough that she would stop being so obtuse! If she was going to reject him, he wished he would do it for something he had done or...  Or any other reason other than the _kriffing_ Jedi and their _kriffing_ , stupid, useless policy on attachments!

"This is just going back to square one, isn't it? Reject me if you want," he said, angry, rushed, his hands trembling, "but don't do it because the Jedi told you to! Damnit, I know you feel _something_ for me!"

Her eyes widened and then narrowed, and her anger and fear snapped back across their Bond like elastic. " Malak will ravage the Galaxy if we allow our feelings to control us! We cannot allow such a lapse in judgment, Cassus. Not now."

"Our feelings for each other have no bearing on Malak or what he does," Cass said, the words hissing between his teeth, hands still trembling no matter how desperately he tried to stop them. "The only thing it's likely to do is piss of the Jedi Council, something you've presumably already done by now at least once in your life."

"The Jedi Council is wise," Bastila maintained stubbornly, holding her head high. "If we were to pursue something it might prevent our advancement through the Order, and furthermore, I'm not willing to risk dragging you toward the Dark Side."

"So this is about advancement in the Order? That's all I am? Another stepping stone?" He asked, feeling himself deflating, hand still resting on the back of his neck, eyes burning with the beginnings of tears, increasingly certain that there was no argument he could make that would be good enough for her. "Damnit, Bastila! Why should any of that matter? You know how I feel for you. I don't think that it's making me weak. If anything, you're the only thing that grounds me."

He took a deep breath, watching surprise break across her face like cracks in a pane of polycarbonate.

Cass sighed at the expression, dropping his hand to his side, speaking again before she could say anything. "Listen, I'm sorry. I overreacted. This is not just my choice to make. I... gave you the opportunity to accept my advances and you denied me. To insist you act on it now would be selfish, especially because I can tell how much this affects you, how much you're hurt by having to pull away. I respect what you've decided, I just --"

"Shut up."

The words stunned him into momentary silence, drawing his attention toward her. "Excuse me?"

Bastila stared up at him, her expression... Confusing, for a half second. Determined, flushed, all her insecurity vanished from the depths of her face, replaced with something... Something... _Hungry_.

He wasn't sure why, or what he'd said, but the feeling radiating from her had changed dramatically. Gone was Bastila determined to deny him, and in her place stood...

"Shut up and kiss me, you fool."

Before he could process what was happening, her hands were tangled in the front of his robes, dragging him down to her level. There was a split second when he wasn't sure what was happening, but all his doubts vanished the moment she reached up and twined her fingers in his hair, pulling their lips together.

For a single moment they stood there, his heart soaring, lips pressed together awkwardly before she began to pull away.

Cass, however, had other plans.

Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her back, kissing her more intently, her arms looping around his neck. The position was somewhat uncomfortable for him, spine bent, but he found himself caring very little as she responded to his passion, groaning openly into his mouth.

Remedying their issue, Cass wrapped an arm around her waist, picking her up effortlessly, backing them up until she was backed against the wall, easily supporting her weight. For a moment they separated, her eyes locking with his, face flushed, lips parted ever so slightly, and he swallowed thickly, pressing his forehead to hers, conflicting feelings warring in his chest.

He had no time to think about them, barely had time to catch his breath, when she was pulling him back, kissing him again. It wasn't nearly as raw and passionate, but just as emotional, her feelings flaring, longing and affection intermingling with each fleeting press of their lips.

Cass found more to appreciate about her with each spark that shot through his body, the softness of her, hard muscle insulated by her curves, her lips and their insistence, the breathy sounds she made when he pressed closer to her, even the way she smelled -- clean and dry. He shivered, dropping his head to her shoulder for a moment, breathing heavily.

 _Too fast_ \-- It was too fast, he caught himself thinking.

He wanted this, but she was a firebrand, and was lighting him ablaze.

Bastila tugged idly on his arms, and he set her down, her arms looping around his neck again to pull him forward, kissing him ever so sweetly. Cass breathed out, blinking in confusion when she pulled away, his heart dropping into a pit in his stomach when he saw her expression, upset, stricken...

He took a shuddering breath...

And stepped back from her.

"I'm sorry, Cassus, we... We _can't_ ," She said, looking up at him with large, blue eyes, and he could feel how hard she was trying not to cry, the emotion making it more difficult for him to hold back his own tears. "I cannot put you in this sort of danger. I can feel how much you care for me, and I... I'm afraid of what it will do to you."

"If you're going to say no, at least go back to the Jedi thing," he said. "I don't want you to make my decisions for me, Bastila. Do it for yourself."

She looked up at him, and for a moment they simply locked eyes, emotions passing over the connection between them -- shock, anger, heartbreak, longing, and that same, familiar affection -- before she turned and walked away without saying anything. Cass listened to her footsteps recede, feeling her shut him out firmly for the first time in a long time, trying to maintain the distance between them emotionally as well as physically.

Suddenly, Cass was very cold.

Stumbling back against the wall, he leaned against it for support, feeling his legs shake beneath him. Drawing a ragged breath, eyes stinging, he slid down, cradling his head in his hands as his heart shattered, hot tears streaking down his face.

He couldn't _feel_ her, which was the worst part. His grounding, his reassurance, was struck completely from underneath him, leaving him swimming in his own mind for the first time in a long time. With a horrible shock, he realized how dependent he'd become on her, and wondered if she was right, if she had seen something he hadn't and he was slipping backwards because of his attachment to her.

Cass would attest that attachments could be positive.

He'd seen it, in Mission and Zalbaar. Carth's love for his son kept him going even in the darkest of days. Bindo... Cared too much, and some would say for his own good, but it had made him wise.

But was that what he had with Bastila?

He curled in on himself, staring at the space between his legs blankly as his tears fell, trying to catch his breath. Thinking about it now was pointless, other than to try and move on. Bastila's stance was clear, and he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't change her mind once she'd resolved to stay her course. She'd never changed her mind about the Jedi Order, and deep down he knew she...

She was still afraid of him.

He took a deep breath, trying to still his own emotions.

She had to be suffering, too, he told himself. He knew how deeply she felt about everything, and that included him, hidden behind the Jedi's expectations of who she should be and how that person should behave.

This was something he knew she wanted for herself and she was selflessly throwing it aside for the Jedi and... For his sake.

He knew that.

So then why was he so angry at her for just making the decision for him?

 _You don't like yourself when you're angry,_ he told himself, hoping it would make some difference, any difference at all. _Stop it. Let it go. Anger makes you someone else. It makes you someone you don't want to be._

There was no emotion, he reminded himself stubbornly.

He took a few more breaths, but found he couldn't shake the feelings, no matter what he did.

That thought made him start laughing, stupidly, breathily, so quietly that he was sure no one else could hear it. He really was a horrible Jedi, not even to center himself, to find his emotional place of "peace", to eschew his feelings somewhere else or forsake his passions for serenity.

He couldn't do it.

The tears fell harder, and he curled up on his side, staring at the doors for a long moment, willing them to stay closed. Cass couldn't bear the idea of anyone seeing him this way, not for the sake of his pride inasmuch as he didn't want to let himself be vulnerable right now, to have to explain. The idea of confiding hurt, especially when he felt so selfish for being this distraught in the first place.

How long he sat there, listening to the sound of the ship and his own breathing, he didn't know, but eventually he could breath evenly again and the tears stopped falling. It didn't do anything to make each throb of his heart feel less like he was being stabbed with a shard of polycarbonate, but at the very least he was completely composed... If a bit red eyed.

He'd have to wash his face, he thought blearily, forcing himself to sit up, leaning his head back against the blessedly cool hull of the ship. Cass remained there, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how much less this would have hurt if he hadn't run his stupid mouth and just left well enough alone, like a reasonable, mature adult.

"You always run your mouth, though, don't you?" he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck again. "That's why it's so wide. You can never kriffing shut it."

It was that exact moment the ship chose to lurch, sending Cass sliding across the floor, bracing himself at the last moment. Reaching out with the Force, he flipped gracefully to his feet and landed with his hand braced against the opposite wall as the ship shook and shuddered a second time.

Why _turbulence_? Why in hyperspace of all places?

Cass' mind raced, sorting through all the possible solutions.

Jumping out at the wrong time?

No. They were in an established hyperlane and the hyperdrive had been fine.

They'd checked it before they'd left Manaan.

So if it wasn't the hyperdrive...

It was then that the pieces slid into place --

The pain he'd felt.

The distress had been directed toward a location Malak knew they might travel to.

This was no normal turbulence.

This was an Interdictor.

The Hawk was caught in a gravity well.

They'd been **_pulled_** from hypersspace.

Cursing under his breath, Cass rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve, deciding he didn't give a shit what his crewmates thought about him right now, and raced towards the cockpit.

"We've fallen into a trap," he said the moment he entered the room, finding Bastila and Carth already crowded around the helm's viewport. "That... That is the Leviathan. I'm certain the both of you know that already, though."

Cass leaned over the terminal, staring at the ship, reaching out with his senses to see if he could feel Malak, but the Dark Lord's presence was absent. There were Dark Jedi there, among the crew, but no Malak.

Not yet.

"Is there nothing we can do to get out of this tractor beam?" Bastila asked, looking toward Carth and then, for a moment, glancing toward him.

"This isn't an ordinary tractor beam, Bastila. We're caught in a gravity well. I'd cut the engines and try to jump back to hyperspace, but it would destroy the hull of the Hawk, and no force in the Galaxy, mystical or otherwise, could save us then." Carth slammed his fists on the console. "Damnit! We flew right into it!"

"Anger will do us no good," Bastila told him.

"Either will sitting here with our hands under our asses," Carth countered, turning his attention toward Cass. "What's the plan? Your instincts have gotten us out of binds this far, so I'm willing to bet they can get us out of this one."

For a moment, Cass hesitated, but reached out to the Force, closing his eyes.

After a moment, he shook his head from side to side. "No. There's no way to avoid being taken in by the Leviathan. My advice is to let them take us. They'll fixate on the three of us" he said, gesturing between them, "so our best bet is to let one of the crew bust out and save us. The droids are our best bet since they're the least likely to be taken seriously by our captors."

"T3 and HK?" Bastila asked, her brow furrowing. "I..." She took a deep breath and cut herself off, closing her eyes before nodding. "Very well. You're correct. I find it unlikely that they'll cause suspicion among the crew."

Carth ground his teeth together, likely thinking about Karath, waiting to board them and take them away to some private torture chamber to have his way with them. "Well, if you're going to inform the crew, you'd better hurry. I'd estimate fifteen minutes until they're boarding."

Cass moved to go, but Bastila held up her hand, shaking her head. "I'll do it."

She left the room, and he deflated, sinking into the co-pilot's chair, running his hand along the back of his neck again, staring at the Leviathan as it grew closer. "You know he's there, don't you?" Cass asked Carth without looking at him. "What are you going to do?"

"Kill him so my wife and the rest of Telos can rest easy knowing I didn't let the man who massacred them go free," he said, moving in the corner of Cass' vision. "Does it bother you?"

"That you want revenge?" Cass asked, thinking about Malak, black eyes sneering at him, a pit forming in his gut, cold and hard. "It should. I'm a Jedi. But if I'm honest?" He sighed, for once entertaining the image, Malak's saber blade glowing red in his mind, his own violet. "I understand. He took everything from you and so many others. Just... be careful. Don't let revenge be all you are."

"Not the advice I expected from you," Carth admitted. "You've changed. Not just since we've met, either, but since Manaan."

"We've all changed, Carth," he replied, finally glancing toward him. "Why should I be any different?"

Carth seemed primed to respond, but the Hawk's terminal beeped, an indication that they were being hailed.

"Do you want to talk to them, or should I?" Carth asked him instead.

"You do it," Cass responded, standing. "I should go talk to the crew, make sure Canderous doesn't mutiny before we even get there. He and Bastila don't really get along."

"Got it," Carth replied, as he pressed the switch. "This is Captain Onasi of the Freighter Ebon Hawk. May I ask why we're being detained?"

Behind him, the Leviathan grew ever closer, one thought dominating Cass' mind as he exited the cockpit to talk to the crew --

He had a bad feeling about this, and that bad feeling was only going to get worse.

* * *

There was no detainment center for them, only harsh barking as they were ordered to completely strip down, leaving the three of them entirely unclothed and unarmed. Cass was confident in his decision to rely on T3 and HK, certain he could trust the two droids to work together, at least in this. HK's legendary bloodlust would serve them just as well as T3's skill with computers and general ingenuity.

Unfortunately, that didn't make their current situation any more optimistic as they were herded into cylindrical containers that Cass immediately recognized for their purpose.

Torture chambers.

The man on Manaan in the Republic Embassy had been in something similar, he recalled, but unlike that man, they were unlikely to find any well wishers here.  No one would show them mercy or cut them a bargain. They would wait in silence, and then likely in pain, until they were rescued by their companions.

And wait they did, for at least an hour, standing in the abject misery of anticipation under careful guard, Carth stony faced, rage radiating from him like some archaic woodburing stove, Bastila with closed eyes, trying to meditate as she shivered, partially with cold and partially with fear. Cass wrung his hands together, jaw clenched so tightly that it began to ache after the first fifteen minutes, feeling Malak draw nearer to the Capital Class Ship every moment.

He told himself that as long as they escaped before Malak arrived, it would be okay, but the moment Saul Karath walked into the room, Cass began to doubt his own sense of assurance.

Saul was an aging, tall man, dressed in the grey and red of the Sith Imperial Military, his hands clasped firmly behind his back, almost as if he stood at attention. He was proud, and his eyes scanned each prisoner carefully -- Satisfaction in seeing Carth brought so low, indifference for Bastila, and then...

_Then._

Recognition.

Recognition that made disgust twist in Cass' gut, his hands balling into fists at his sides, knuckles turning pale as he stood taller, prouder. He sneered down at Karath, who smiled politely back at him, and then laughed, an airy and cruel sound, barely polite.

"So it **_is_** you," Karath said, voice as slick as his hair. "Oh, I'll have to keep you alive just to see the look on Lord Malak's face when he finally sees you again. Tell me, are you looking forward to this reunion?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Cass replied, voice so cold that it crept up his own spine like a vine over the face of a ruin, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I think Carth missed you, though. Didn't you, Carth?"

"My fist missed his face," Carth growled, hatred barely restrained by the barrier separating he and his old mentor. "But if he lets me out of here, we can make sure _that_ reunion happens real soon."

Karath laughed again, more loudly this time, pacing the length of their containment cylinders, his eyes sliding between Carth and Cass deliberately. "Unfortunately for your fist, Carth, I've been given free rein to do with you as I wish, as Lord Malak cares very little about you. You shan't be leaving detention until you're dead or converted to our cause."

He looked toward Cass again, eyes freezing on him, a sickly smile spreading across his full lips. " _It's really true_ ," he said, voice almost breathless with awe. "Lord Malak shall find this most amusing. I doubt it will put a damper on your reunion in the slightest."

_Confirmation._

**Hatred.**

Cass shook and pushed the feelings down, but they wouldn't yield to his will, something about this place, this _man_ , bringing out the worst in him.

"Then I look forward to seeing him," he said, his voice so imperious he almost didn't recognize it as his own. "Of course, he'll be looking for a new Fleet Admiral. By then, you'll be a smear of blood on the bridge, I promise you that."

He wouldn't believe it until he heard it from Malak's own lips, all evidence to the contrary.

He _couldn't._

Even when Bastila was looking at him with an expression so aghast it made him feel immediate remorse.

"Not if I get to him first," Carth snapped, bringing Cass back to the present painfully.

Still, the threat seemed to have some effect, Karath's face momentarily growing a shade paler. "I would be inclined to take that threat seriously were you in possession of your lightsaber," Malak's Admiral admitted. "Fortunately, I am the one in a position of power here. You're nothing more than a man stripped of all the tools that make him complete. Here, I am the one in control."

He paced again, the smile and color returning to his face at precisely the same rate. "Which reminds me," he drawled. "You are in possession of information I find singularly useful. I would be remiss if I were to have the enemy at my mercy and did not use it to my advantage."

Karath paused, crossing his arms behind him, standing next to the controls for the torture chambers. He drummed his fingers against the panel, smiling up at them in mock civility. "Now, I know you well enough to know that you won't yield if I torture _you_. You were always astonishingly resilient to such methods. However, I have it on the very good authority of my Lord and Master that you hold a certain affection for young Miss Shan..."

His predatory eyes slid to Bastila, who turned a shade paler the same moment Cass' hands slammed against the polycarbonate in front of him, his teeth bared. There was nothing he could do, but he was so angry he felt like he might shed his own skin somehow, to smash through his containment and destroy Karath where he stood.

It was then that he felt the small, quiet, presence of Bastila at the back of his mind, pulling him back. Restraint, she cautioned, peace, she urged, I am here, she reminded him, and his pulse slowly returned to normal as he backed away from Karath, who was looking at him with disgust and amusement intermingled on his face.

"Ah. Confirmation at last. I see her pain will be excellent motivation after all," Karath laughed once more, turning his full attention to the panel. "And here I was told you had _changed_. It seems the Krayt Dragon sheds its skin, but underneath it's exactly what it always was --"

He glanced back over his shoulder, and for one, horrible moment, made eye contact with Cass.

"A monster."

Cass sucked in a breath, squeezing his eyes shut, listening to the sounds of his own breath. His heart, already abused, felt like it was bleeding in his chest. Crossing his arms across his torso, he glared into Karath's face openly, feeling his subdued rage still churn in his gut like a bad meal.

"Sharp words," he admitted. "But I'm just as loyal to the Republic as Bastila is."

"We both know that's not true," Karath laughed briefly, though his face suddenly grew serious. "Though I find it interesting that you didn't mention the Jedi. I wonder, do you have any loyalty to them at all? Tell me, where is the Jedi Enclave located?"

Cass glanced toward Bastila and sucked in a breath, steeling himself for what he knew would come. "Don't play with me, Karath. If you're so close to Dantooine, you already know where it is. Malak's not an idiot, and he's not the sort to **_simulate_** an attack on a planet for fun. He's already proved it."

Karath's face turned stormy, and he flicked a switch, Bastila screaming out in horrible pain as volts of electricity coursed through her body. Cass swallowed, unable to look at her, bracing his hands against his polycarbonate chamber again, staring at Karath with open hatred in his eyes.

"Right you are, but that still wasn't a proper answer," Karath drawled. "You will give simple responses, without back talk, or your lady will suffer."

"What she wants from me is far more important to me than what you want, Karath, I assure you," Cass said, voice as cold as the icy expanse of Hoth.

"We will see."

All was silent for a moment before Karath turned back to the terminal, sighing heavily. "What have you been doing? What mission has the Jedi Council sent you on?"

"They want us to kill Malak," Cass said acridly. "What else?"

Bastila screamed out in agony, falling to her knees, begging Karath for mercy, and Cass steeled himself. He reminded himself what was at stake -- The innocents of the Galaxy and the lives of his friends and everyone he cared about -- and bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut, blood pounding in his own ears.

"The Jedi would never order Lord Malak's death. They're not strong enough," Karath objected. "Only Sith use death as a weapon."

"You think that?" he asked, not looking up. "You don't know how desperate the Jedi are to save the Republic, and you _really_ don't understand the Republic at all. It's changed since you left. Of course, you're the monster who bombed Telos..." Cass snorted. "I'm sure you'd fit right in."

"That was an act of war," Karath interjected, but was interrupted by Carth before he could finish his argument.

"You massacred an entire planet! My wife was on that world! Countless innocent people! You were on Serocco, Saul, and what you did is no better than the Mandalorians!" Carth's fists pounded his containment cell. "Three worlds, Saul, three! I'll never rest until you pay for what you did."

"It was an act of war," Karath repeated, this time specifically addressing Carth, even word enunciated to perfect affect. "I had to prove my loyalty to the Sith. We're trying to save the Galaxy. Sacrifices are necessary."

"So saving the Galaxy constitutes destroying it now?" Carth asked him. "Not even **_Revan_** sanctioned that attack! It was you, and it was Malak, and I swear the both of you will die for it. I swear you will!"

"Enough," Karath snapped, his teeth clacking together viscerally, turning his attention back to Cass. "I'll ask you again, _Master Jedi_ ," he said with such vehemence that Cass opened his eyes again to stare him down. "What does the Jedi Council have you doing?"

"I told you already, Admiral," he replied coolly, carefully containing his thoughts about the Star Forge. "The Republic and the Jedi want your Master dead."

Bastila, silent but barely conscious, screamed out again, currents coursing savagely through her body, Cass' knuckles turning white as he clenched them into fists, grinding his teeth together. "All you're doing," he said to Karath, voice low and cold, "is making me angry. I don't think you want to do that."

Finally, Bastila's screams ceased, her presence in the back of his mind blacking out, and Cass found himself grateful she'd lost consciousness. She wasn't suffering anymore, and because she wasn't, Karath flicked off the machine.

"I can see this was a waste of my time. I should have known," the Admiral sighed in self-defeat. "You are a persistently stubborn man, but I was hoping to give you a chance to surrender out of respect for your ability. Unfortunately, I was unable to extract the answers we require. I think you will find my methods far more merciful than Lord Malak's."

Cass glared at him, watching as his hands moved for the other two switches, vision going white the moment Karath flipped them, pain arcing across his every nerve, making him cry out in agony. Distantly, he was aware of Carth's cries, but could focus on little else than his own suffering, calling on the Force to sustain him somehow...

Somehow...

He would survive.

"When Captain Onasi passes out, turn off his machine," Karath instructed. "That one, however..."

Pale eyes slid over Cass' face as his muscles convulsed against his will and he fell, writhing, to his knees. Still, he glared, mustering all his fury into one stare, breathing heavily through his mouth, through the rivulets of white hot anguish that screamed through every surface of his body, in and out.

"Ensure that he continues with the cycle for an hour after he loses consciousness. I have no doubt he will survive, but Lord Malak wishes him to suffer."

And with that, Saul Karath left the room, his footsteps echoing across the cold panels of the floor, leaving Cass to his suffering. Suffering that focused him, distracted him from whatever else he had been feeling, suffering that something buried deep within him knew how to utilize to his own advantage.

Suffering he could turn into _power_.

Darth Malak, Former Dark Apprentice, had made a mistake in bringing Cass here.

Somewhere in the depths of Malak's Flagship two droids stirred, and no Dark Jedi or Sith soldier could prevent them from rescuing their master.


	26. Part Three; Chapter Twenty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, the truth comes out. 
> 
> Finally the pieces slide into place and the final arc of a journey begins. 
> 
> Also, I get to stop calling him Cass and searching for all the times I accidentally write Revan, instead.

It was a dream.

He was sure of that much.

But it was different than the others.

He supposed he had grown so used to Revan being there that he had forgotten what it was like to dream alone, and right now Bastila wasn't here, apart from his mind, leaving him more alone than he had been in a long time. Cass looked out over the desolate, dark surface of a planet he did not recognize, a massive Pyramid Temple looming behind him, green lightning arching across the sky, from cloud to black cloud. Ashy rain fell from the sky, thick and black, soaking his already black clothes through, the shapes of ruined ships silhouetted by lightning strike.

"You never told me about this place," came a voice, familiar like half remembered images from a nightmare, deja vu given physical form. "Even now, the surface of the planet is too dangerous to traverse. They say it will be another two years before the atmosphere is clean enough for humans to breath."

"So tell me, am I playing the role of your Master in this dream?" Cass asked not turning around to face the voice. "Are you a figment of my imagination, or is it really you?"

The dark shape of Malak stepped forward to stand beside him, looking out over the ravaged landscape, dressed in red and black and tarnished grey -- a Sith Lord, not a Jedi or a Revanchist or a Crusader.

Cass' heart sunk into his stomach.

"You always were stubborn. You'll refuse to believe until Bastila Shan herself confirms it for you, won't you?" He laughed, low and bitter, his voice rumbling like thunder. "Until she looks up into your face with her big, blue, eyes, and apologizes for all she's done to you?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"And you didn't answer mine, but it's been this way for years between us. A game. You still play it so well." Malak's eyes, inky black in the shadow, turned momentarily sad as he ran his hand over the dome of his head, chasing the shape of the faded tattoos there. "You've left me more burdened than you could ever understand. Do you even know what a shackle these memories are? You can't recall what was at stake. We had good reasons."

"At what cost?" He asked as he spun to face the Dark Lord, for once roughly eye level with someone else. "Telos? Taris? Dantooine? How many more planets are you going to consume?"

"I had my reasons," Malak objected, staring back into his face, mechanical voice cracking anyway. "Have you ever approved of anything I've done? Did you always resent me so?"

"I'm not Revan," he objected, holding up his hands, backing away. "I can't answer that question."

"No?" Malak asked. "Then why did your eyes burn yellow when Karath confronted you? Yellow with your hatred? You can't hide from it forever. I will see to it that you don't. In fact, it's still hard for me to believe that this isn't some game you're playing. Some funny joke. You always were so flippant. So _childish_."

"Says the man who blows up planets," he snapped back, Malak taking a menacing step toward him.

"I told you I had my reasons!" Malak shouted, reaching out and grasping Cass by the collar of his shirt, hoisting him up into the air. "Dantooine to draw you out, knowing how pathetic and sentimental you always were, Taris to ensure Bastila could not escape, and Telos..." Malak laughed, voice hallow and mechanical through his modulator. "You taught me a lesson for that world. I tested my limits and you laid me low."

Cass, furious, grabbed Malak's shoulders, squeezing hard, Malak's eyes flaring slate grey with excitement and satisfaction. "Reasons?" he asked Malak, his voice little more than a growl. "Bad reasons. It's a waste of life and resources. An entire planet for one person? A conclave to bring me to you? Your lack of subtlety is why you always fail."

Malak threw him, Cass landing against the rocks, grunting on impact as the wind was knocked out of him, just barely avoiding falling to his knees. The rain picked up, and Cass' suddenly wondered whose dream he was in... His own, or someone else's.

Gasping, he glared up at Malak, brushing wet strands of dark hair out of his face.

"Your sentimentality is yours," Malak replied. "You were never willing to make the necessary sacrifices, Master, which is why I was always destined to be the stronger of the two of us. You were too cautious, but I have no such limits. I will use my full power, and I will bring the Galaxy to its knees!"

He stalked forward, reaching out toward Cass, who flinched away, only to find Malak leaning close, instead, as if to whisper in his ear.

"Don't you remember? I've let you live so you can learn the same lesson you taught me. I will take what you care about most from you, and then watch you suffer." Malak laughed. "It will make your ultimate death much more satisfying."

Lightning flashed, and Cass saw it, an image of Bastila, but they eyes were wrong, black as pitch with flecks of red dancing like flames in her irises, her skin sallow...

"No," he choked, as Malak's laugh grew louder, louder than the thunder, than the sound of the rain pounding the black stone. "No!"

"You can't trust anyone," Malak said, the words sliding down Cass' spine like ice, fear lodging in his throat, stealing his voice. "You should simply be grateful I spared you so you can live to learn the lesson."

Cass woke, brow soaked with sweat, staring up into Bastila's face.

"Cassus?" She asked, reaching out, stroking his forehead as he realized every nerve in his body was on fire.

"Fuck," he groaned, curling up on his side, glad to see they had at least been relocated to some kind of cell -- would make it easier for the others to find them. "Feel like I've been run over by a Bantha. Twice. One time with another, smaller, Bantha riding on top of it."

"That's poetic," said Carth's voice from a corner. "And probably appropriate, considering how hard they hit you."

"You heard them. I'm Malak's new favorite," he said, gritting his teeth, picturing the Dark Lord's face all too clearly in his head. "Speaking of which, I owe you an apology, Bastila. I was so mad I just... lost control. You deserve better from me."

"You didn't give in," she said quietly at last. "That is far more important to me than whatever temptation you faced."

He didn't have the heart to argue with her, to tell her that he had given in, it was just... He hated the Sith more than he hated the Republic right now, and that it was very much subject to change. His loyalty to her, to the people he cared about, to helping others in general, was far more help to him than any Jedi Code or ideal of how he should behave.

He wasn't like her.

He... wasn't a good Jedi.

Cass knew now he was just attracted to the idea of the good they could do, not to the Order itself.

"Well," he said, taking a deep breath, his chest aching with the effort of breathing. "It doesn't matter now. Now all we can do is wait. Wait until the others come to find us."

Bastila, whose face he could still see, nodded, soothing her hands through his hair and closing her eyes. Cass recognized what she was going to do before she did it, of course, her hands glowing pale white as they pressed against his skin, relief immediately soothing into his muscles.

He closed his eyes, groaning softly, hardly believing that likely less than a day ago he'd had her pressed against a wall in the Ebon Hawk's barracks. It seemed so impossible, so far away. He felt like he'd aged twelve years in a day.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice soft as Carth hobbled toward them and sat down where Cass could see him, his expression concerned as it was furious.

"I had a nightmare. It's still getting to me, I guess. _Malak_ is getting to me." He looked into Carth's face. "I'm sorry for antagonizing Karath, I --"

"Don't. I'm not upset that you did it. A part of me was glad to hear someone else is as angry with him as I am."

Cass took a breath, the three of them lapsing into silence for another long moment.

"Bastila, are you --"

"I'm fine," she said. "I've already rested enough to heal Carth and myself a relative amount. We've been here for hours."

His brow must have still been furrowed in concern because she soothed her hands over his forehead. "Cassus, I promise, I'm fine. I'm glad you were able to do the right thing. That gives me more peace of mind that I would have if I were whole of body."

Cass laughed breathily. "I didn't do it for the Jedi, Bastila. I'm selfish. I did it because I knew you would be angry at me if I didn't, and because... Because there are more lives at stake than just yours. You would never want me to put you above all those people. How could I betray your trust that way?"

She looked down at him, her expression stricken, falling quickly, though she recovered. "This is why you are a good man," she told him. "Being a good Jedi is not about struggling with attachments, but finding a way to overcome them. I fear I would not have been able to do the same in your position."

Shaking his head, Cass just smiled at her. It was his attachments that had allowed him to overcome his own selfish inclinations and be a better person that he would be on his own, but he didn't feel like arguing.

Eventually, he drifted off again, the warm feeling of being knit slowly back together enough of a comfort to stave off any more nightmares. Or maybe it was simply Bastila's presence itself.

For several more hours, it went on like this, with occasional conversation to break the silence until finally the doors of their little cell swung up and Mission burst triumphantly into the room, followed by T3, spinning happily in a circle, beeping ecstatically.

"Observation: I believe he is happy to see you and the other meatbags, Master." HK walked into the room behind Mission, instantly kneeling down with a card key to remove the anklets they'd been fashioned with, designed to stop them from straying too far. "I, myself, shockingly find that I am pleasantly surprised to see you in one piece."

"Good to see you all, too," Cass said as a bundle of clothing was tossed his way and he quickly struggled back into his robes, clipping his saber to his belt. "Unfortunately, none of us are getting off this ship if we don't turn off that gravity well. I assume Carth is coming to the Bridge with me. Bastila?"

She nodded. "We must hurry. Malak will arrive soon."

Cass nodded, rubbed the back of his neck, watching as Carth struggled his way back into his armor. They were clearly all still hurting from the torture, but right now they had little choice -- sending someone else to the bridge, and thus to face Karath, wasn't an option.

"The rest of you," Cass began, "head back to the docking bay. Find the Hawk. Hold her for us. And make sure you're ready for takeoff."

"Can do," Canderous said with a grin. "Come on, let's go bust open some Sith skulls."

Jolee looked between the three of them, then back towards Canderous, turning his attention shortly back to Cass and his close companions. "Be careful," he said. "I feel destiny stirring, and that's never a good thing. Means someone might end up sucked out the airlock."

"That's encouraging," Cass replied dryly, turning to Mission, who was pressing a leather pouch into his hands.

"Medpacs," she said. "No offense, but you look like you walked out of the Mustfar system. Big-Z and I thought to grab a bunch from their stories on the way here."

"Thanks, Mission," he replied, attaching the pouch to his utility belt. "I have a feeling we're all going to need it. You and Big-Z keep the others out of trouble, okay? Don't let Juhani and Canderous run off into any big fights they can't win."

"You got it, flyboy," she said with a grin and a mock salute. "Don't worry. We'll keep them in line."

"Good. I know I can trust you," he placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled, turning away a moment later, suddenly consumed with the feeling that everything was changing more quickly than he could compensate for the change -- including in himself.

Cass turned back to Carth and Bastila, who were already dressed and ready to go.

"Come on," he said, pushing his way toward the door. "Karath is waiting for us. We shouldn't keep him waiting."

* * *

 

Imperial Interdictor Class Capital ships were little more than massive black mazes, graveyards to those who attempted to invade them. It would take a great deal of ingenuity to make it all the way to the Bridge, the klaxons blaring, soldiers and Dark Jedi rushing past them toward the docking bay, where a small force of elite fighters would be waiting for them.

Cass had no expectations of the ship being emptied completely by their companions, but it did give them a bit of an edge, ducking around corners to avoid being seen, Bastila leading them with the confidence of someone who had invaded an Interdictor before.

Well placed confidence, he realized as he watched her, remembering that she'd been the one to lead the boarding of the Behemoth.

"Ship's on lockdown," Carth muttered as the three of them huddled behind a wall, trying to make it to the elevators. "I know the protocols. They're not that different from the Republic ones."

"Not that shockingly, Cass replied. "Revan was the Supreme Commander, you know."

"Stop talking," Bastila hissed, glancing at them both over her shoulder. "They'll hear you. We need to make it to the elevator without alerting the guards."

Cass shook his head, and her brow furrowed heavily, though she didn't reach out to stop him when he stepped out from behind the wall, drawing the attention of both of the guards. Though he grinned at them, he felt anger roil through him, and dragged the both of them slowly towards him, watching their horrified expressions before he slammed their heads together and watched them crumple onto the ground.

"Sorry, Bastila," Cass said, staring at their unconscious bodies, "but we don't have the time to be stealthy -- Besides, it's not... exactly my strong point."

She sighed heavily, searching his face for a moment before nodding and striding toward the elevator. He followed after her, Carth taking up the rear, walking backwards toward their lift, stepping inside just before the doors closed.

"Looks like they've locked out the command deck," Cass said, watching the numbers flash red on the screen, glancing toward Bastila. "Any ideas?"

She shook her head, then hesitated. "There's maintenance access to the command deck along the outside of the ship. We'd have to head to storage to find environmental suits and then make our way to the airlock, but theoretically..."

"What other choice do we have?" Carth asked. "We need to get to Karath and the bridge controls."

Bastila's lips pressed together in a thin white line as she looked up into his face, then turned to Cass. "I suppose you agree?"

"Well, he is right," Cass said as she reached out to press the right buttons, "we really don't have a choice if we want to get off this ship intact. We can't hold out against him forever."

Bastila took a deep breath, her hand reaching toward the grip of her saber staff, staring at the door with now steely blue eyes. Cass could sense her deep discomfort, her wariness, and wondered just what she was afraid of ; space, or the possibility of being separated like they had been on Manaan?

Quietly, he reached out as the elevator shifted into motion, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, Carth moving to stand closer to the both of them. Cass glanced into his face, finding his eyes already filled with concern as they exchanged a glance.

"The Force is with us," he told her. "I feel it around us. We won't fail, Bastila, not at this."

She took a deep breath and nodded, though she didn't look into either of their faces. Instead, she squared her shoulders, ready the moment the doors opened, her saber igniting a breath later, deflecting the blaster fire that was already waiting for them.

Cass and Carth fell into step behind her, Bastila leading the way through the belly of the beast, purpose and determination in the line of her jaw. It was apparent every passing second that she had been the sole hope of the Galaxy before she'd stumbled onto Cass, that she was used to this sort of burden resting squarely upon her shoulders, something that Cass himself felt no one should have to face.

How much was this like Revan, he wondered as they carved their way through the barracks, no other choice left to them if they wanted to reach the access walkways connected to maintenance? Had she cleaved her way through the entire ship or had Revan's soldiers been more elite? How many of the Sith's leaders had been lost along with... Along with...

_Revan._

A chill went down his spine, a sense of deja vu, grounding himself only by staring at Bastila's back and focusing on the feeling of his robes against his skin.

"I never thought I would be doing this," Carth said as they traversed a particularly empty expanse of hallway. "Ten years ago, if you'd told me this is how any of this would end up, I would have told you that you were crazy."

"Ten years ago, Revan was leading a crusade against the Mandalorians, trying to prove they were war criminals," Cass replied. "Ten years ago, I doubt even Revan or Malak would have believed it was going to end up this way."

Even as he said the words, they felt... true.

True and painful.

"Ten years ago, I was at Dantooine when Revan and Malak arrived after some incident in which Malak and Revan's other followers had to be rescued from Mandalorian captivity," Bastila began. "I listened to him speak. I believe I am the one person in the Galaxy unsurprised that he Fell."

"But are you just telling yourself that in hindsight?" Cass asked her, earning himself a look of open-eyed shock. "Are you willing to believe you saw it in him -- _them_ \-- because you want to believe there was always something dark in them? I thought the situation was more complicated than that, just by listening to others talk about it. Revan's belief was sincere."

"Yes, he was sincere," Bastila replied, turning her face away from him. "But I remember what happened -- I listened to him speak. I think I would know better than you."

"You're not Revan," he objected, watching her grow tense, though she didn't respond.

Carth filled the silence between them.

"Maybe he was a bad Jedi," he said, clearly trying to ease the tension, "but he was always regretful of the sacrifices he had to make during the War. Maybe he went bad because no one supported him, but he didn't start out that way."

"He was a bad Jedi," Cass agreed. "Good Jedi listen to the Council. I just don't think he was inherently... Inherently evil."

He had to believe he wasn't or he'd drive himself crazy.

Bastila took a deep breath and looked back over her shoulder at Cass a second time, her eyes pleading, though she'd shut herself off from him, leaving him at a loss. "Perhaps you're right," she admitted. "Perhaps being here is reminding me all too well of what he was like on the Behemoth. The man I met on Dantooine was nothing like that. Impatient, perhaps proud, but not..."

"Cold," Cass said, watching confusion flicker across her face, followed by resignation as she remembered they shared nightmares. "Revan was cold."  

Conversation ceased as they walked back into more populated parts of the ship, having little difficulty overcoming their foes. Before long, they reached their destination, and Cass had to admit he was relieved to find intact environmental suits for all three of them. Of course, this wasn't an abandoned underwater scientific research center haunted by half-mad Selkath, but a well-stocked military vessel.

"We'd better hurry," Cass said, already reaching out for one of the suits, the Force shuddering as Malak drew ever closer, his throat growing tight.  

Several minutes later, they were all crammed into the airlock, subjected suddenly to near zero gravity. It was different than the buoyancy of water, something one had to experience to understand, space yawning and black in all directions, a truly incomprehensible void, with nothing in between the stars and planets but unfathomable darkness.

Cass braced his hand against the hull of the ship, taking the lead instead of Bastila, jumping slowly along the platform, glad the ship had its own small gravitational field, or else they'd fly out into that void and never be heard from again.

It took them all quite some time to work their way around the outside of the ship, as massive as it was, space so empty that Cass had to resort to running through the aurebesh in his head to prevent himself from going mad. He preferred never to be alone with his thoughts, and space was the ultimate emphasis of that loneliness. When they entered into the other airlock and sound returned the world, ship humming around them reassuringly, though Cass could feel as the pendulum of the Force swung towards the Dark Side, leaving him nervous, awareness of Malak's every nearing presence tingling at the back of his mind.

"Come on," he said, struggling out of his suit. "We're near the Bridge, now. Won't be long."

Bastila caught his sleeve as he tried to pull on ahead, looking up into his face with concern but saying nothing, turning away to look toward the doors. She didn't seem to want to discuss whatever was going on between them right now, but that was fine.

It was all confusing, anyway, and they really should be focusing on getting off of the damn ship.

There would be time for answers later -- Later, and before Korriban, Cass said, remembering Revan's heartfelt advice.

They made their way once more through the ship, towards its head, fighting their way toward the Bridge from their distant access point, not speaking a single word to each other unless it was useful in combat. Ruthlessly, they cut a swath through the Sith army, finally making their way to the bridge, Cass' body aching, looking toward Carth, his forehead soaked with sweat, and then Bastila, paler than usual, her expression drawn.

He would have to be strong for all of them.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and called on the Force, letting it flow through him. Leaning on it like a crutch, he slammed the button to open the door and strode onto the bridge, the eyes of every man and woman there on him, frozen in their seats as he advanced on Admiral Karath, standing at the helm. A strength not his own filled him even as the Admiral turned around to stare him in the face, eyes flitting briefly to Bastila and lingering for a long moment on Carth.

"I should have known your little allies would cause trouble," Karath said, his eyes locking with Cass, who stood with his arms coolly crossed over his chest. "And now here you are, standing on my Bridge. Unfortunately, you must know I cannot let you leave alive."

His eyes flickered toward Carth, and Cass could sense the genuine sadness radiating from him as he touched the blaster on his side, motioning to the guards standing in the wings with his free hand. "I had hoped you'd stay where I put you, Carth. I could have saved you. I'm sorry that it had to come to this."

"If you were sorry," Carth growled, flipping his twin blasters from his belt, "you would have submitted yourself to the judgment of the Republic."

"You don't understand, "Karath said emphatically, his eyes flickering back toward Cass. "There's more at stake here than a few Republic planets, even Telos." He heaved a sigh, heavy with regret. "And now you never will. Gentleman?"

Six Sith Troopers in red armor surrounded them from all sides.

"Prepare to fire on my word."

Carth's guns fired before Karath could give the order, blazes of energy making the man cry out as they hit his shoulder, searing through his coat and burning his shoulder. The Sith needed no other prompting, immediately opening fire, Bastila's saber staff rotating, arcing in semi-circles, reflecting fire back at the troopers, sending at least one of them to their knees.

For a half a breath, Cass caught Carth's eyes, sharing a nod as he drove toward the troopers on the opposite side of the room, baring his teeth in a snarl. Throwing his blade, he arched it toward one of his targets, severing the man's hand from his wrist, watching it and the gun clatter to the floor as he screamed out in agony, Carth engaging Karath somewhere behind him.

With a war cry, Cass jumped into the air, watching as the other two soldiers scrambled to fire at him, their bolts barely grazing his clothing as he landed behind the handless trooper, impaling him on the length of his blade. Reaching out with his free hand,  he drew one of the firing men slowly closer until he, too, fell limp onto the point, dismissing his blade as his hand left the pressure plate, watching them both fall to the ground before turning his attention to his remaining, trembling opponent.

"Kriff," he heard the man breathe from behind his mask, taking a step back, stumbling over his own feet. "Kriffing hell. No. No! It's... It's _true_...! Oh hell... I don't want to die like this..."

Examining him, Cass advanced on the cowering soldier and pulled the blaster rifle from his hands, tossing it to the side where it clattered loudly on the metal tile. "Then run," he hissed in a low voice. "Run to the escape pods. Run far away and hope that Malak doesn't find you, because I promise..."

He glanced back over his shoulder to find the last of Bastila's trooper's falling to the ground, dead or incapacitated, turning his attention back to the trooper, staring at him through the slits in his helmet.

"I promise if he finds you, he won't be _nearly_ as merciful as I am."

The man didn't respond, simply made a strangled noise and turned around, running from the room so quickly that Cass didn't even notice when the maintenance people began to stand, filing quickly from the room. A few stole glances back at him, others eyes strayed to Carth, who had just punched Karath in the jaw, but all of them left, silently and without fanfare, leaving the bridge abandoned and nearly as empty as the depths of space. Only the sounds of Carth's heavy breathing and Karath's grunts could be heard above the impact of flesh against flesh, echoing in the vacuous chamber.

Cass turned around just in time to see Karath fall to the ground, Bastila teetering on the edge of uncertainty and interference, before her eyes locked with his own. She seemed reluctant, but she drew back, watching the once proud Admiral crawl away from Carth, blood pouring from his mouth and nose, Carth's knuckles bloody.

They could have used blasters, but Cass suspected fists were more satisfying after a betrayal like that.

Bastila turned away, looking nauseated as Karath turned onto his back, holding up his hands, Carth leveling the blaster he'd carried since Cass had known him at the man's head. A mercy shot, a good soldier, not a violent kill, reminding Cass that this was for justice as much as revenge.

"Wait!" Karath cried, coughing and sputtering past the blood. "Wait before you kill me!"

Carth glared at him, eyes filled with heat as hot as the fires of Mustafar, his lip curled up into a growl that made him look like a feral hound. "Give me one reason," he spat, "one reason why I shouldn't kill you now."

"Because you were right!" Karath cried, bloody hands held up in surrender. "You were right, and you deserve the truth, as best as it is within my power to give you! I don't want to see you used or lied to any longer."

"You saw to that yourself," Carth said, teetering, his jaw and fingers twitching with the effort of not shooting the man, cursing as his pistol dropped back to his side. "What is it?"

Karath's eyes flickered toward Cass for a brief moment, and he grinned a bloody toothed smile, one that made Cass' blood turn to ice in his veins. Across the walkway, Bastila stood frozen, her eyes as wide as some prey creature caught in a searchlight, expression drawn and resigned as it was terrified, staring not at Carth and Karath...

But at _him_.

"Come closer," Karath muttered. "This is for your ears, only, Carth. I never cared about the Jedi, only you."

Carth wavered, and Cass dared to hope for a single moment that he would raise the blaster again and shoot Karath in the head, but his hopes were dashed, Carth's pity winning out over his desire for comeuppance.

Cass couldn't blame him, not really. He'd have done the same thing, knelt by the corpse of a confidant and friend who had once betrayed him, searching for an answer to the question "why". Captain Onasi was too compassionate of a man, too kind of a man, to ever let someone he'd once considered a friend die without saying his final peace, without trying to make things right.

He fixated on Carth's face, watching as Karath placed a bloody hand against his shoulder, his face softened by genuine sympathy, though the dagger of venomous hatred was still lodged firmly in his heart. It was clear, though, that he was telling the truth, that none of that hatred was for Carth, even as Carth's eyes widened, his jaw tightening as Karath rasped a terrible secret in his ear.

Carth's hands trembled where Cass could see them grasping Karath's clothing, backing away slowly, shaking his head. "You have to be lying."

"I'm not," Karath said, raising his head to look at Carth, who now towered over him, staring at him with a dark, intense expression in the depths of his eyes. "Ask the Jedi. She knows."

Carth didn't look at Bastila, not yet, his lip curling up again as he grasped his pistol in his hand once more. "I don't believe you, Saul."

Karath laughed, shaking his head from side to side. "You will Carth," he muttered darkly, his face drawn and pale. "He'll leave you a bleeding husk of your former self. They always do. Sith can only destroy."

Conflict warred on Carth's expression, raising his pistol toward Saul, whose eyes flickered closed slowly, his body relaxing as if he were trying to sleep there on the floor of the dark, cold bridge. "Shoot me," he ordered his former subordinate. "The death you deliver will be far more merciful than the one Malak will give me for failing."

A single shot fired, blazing orange-white against the reflective surface of the bow's viewport, and Karath went limp.

For a second, everything was quiet.

Everything except for high, raspy breathing that he quickly realized was his as he stumbled back against one of the control consoles. He supported his weight against it, knees shaking, trying to bring himself under control. pushing thoughts of what he was and wasn't out of his head as best as he could with other thoughts, more productive thoughts, of "not here" and "not now" and "it's not true."

He couldn't though.

His heartbeat only spiraled more out of control, like the void had sucked all the air from his lungs and he would expire in a matter of moments.

Grounding.

He needed grounding.

So he did the only thing he could think of -- He focused on Carth and Bastila.

They didn't seem to notice his emotional state, absorbed in staring at each other, Carth's gaze accusatory and stormy, Bastila quiet and as apologetic as he'd ever seen her.

He could only be grateful that Carth wasn't looking at him that way.

"It's true, isn't it?" he asked her. "Everything he said?"

Bastila said nothing, and though she didn't shrink from him, he could feel her defeat, her acquiescence.

It was almost enough to make him throw up.

"Kriffing -- Fucking -- Shit-- Bastila!" Each word grew in volume, a staccato that ended in an echoing vowel that made Cass' bones vibrate. "You put us all in danger! All of us! You lied to us, and we could have been killed! People who had nothing to do with this! Nothing to do with the war! I'm one thing, but Mission, Bastila? Zalbaar? What would you have done if--"

"Stop."

She spoke the word with equal measures of command and pleading, stepping toward him, her expression more open than he'd ever seen it. Bastila was desperate, and Carth...

Carth simply stared at her blankly, waiting for her to continue.

"I am not asking you to trust me ever again, Carth. I promise I will explain everything as soon as we get off of this ship," her eyes slid painfully to Cassus, who turned to stone underneath her gaze, petrified by the implications of what was happening. "To both of you. But please, trust me a little while longer. Our lives are in danger and we can't afford to waste time, not when Ma..."

In that moment, Cass' vision lost its focus and he felt... He felt the atmosphere of the Leviathan stir and darken, a hauntingly familiar presence. Hot, molten, fury given form, all malice and careful logic, reaching out to Cass mind, brushing against him like claws against polycarbonate.

_I was hoping you hadn't managed to slip away._

Cass shivered.

"He's here," he said, loudly enough that Carth and Bastila stopped whatever they were saying and stared at him openly.

_I wanted to see you again._

Cass looked at them, staring at them without really seeing them. "Malak is here. We have to hurry and make it to the docking bay. Quit bickering, drop the damn shields and unlock the elevator."

_Come to me. I want to see you face to face._

He pushed the words away, gritting his teeth, trying to block the presence from the back of his mind to little avail. It was so angry, and he felt so small, so terrified, trapped like a rodent running a maze for a Rodian scientist.

"Whatever the hell you're talking about," he said, his voice distant from them as he stared toward the doors of the bridge, watching them pulse and zoom in his vison, beckoning him closer, "it can wait. Just move. We'll continue this when we get to the Hawk."

Carth, still furious, hopped to action, the frightened Bastila not far behind them.

Their emotions pushed to the side, whether by Cass' own desires or the desires of the familiar yet alien presence in the back of his mind, he began to walk toward the door, his feet leading themselves.

No...

The Force leading them, pulling him toward his destiny.

_I'm waiting._


	27. Part Three; Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, an announcement -- 
> 
> There will be no chapter updates during the month of April. I'm completely dedicating my writing time to my second novel and preparing to take the next step toward completing an 18 volume series. That being said, I'm going to try to get the last two chapters of part three published before then, so you can expect to be headed toward Korriban before April rolls around! I have a few things to add to this novelization that the game didn't cover, and feel compelled to publish them before I take a little vacation. 
> 
> You can still likely expect a few updates of smaller stories, and my Rogue Robin Content will still get published, but I do have to try to write at least two novels this year. I hope you understand. 
> 
> Now that I'm done with that... 
> 
> Here it is. 
> 
> The moment I've been wanting to write most since I started all of this. I can hardly believe I actually made it here. It's kind of surreal, if I think about it. This is the first novelization I've ever had make it past the halfway point, to the parts I've most wanted to write in the entire story. 
> 
> This is an accomplishment for me, and it shows how much I've grown as a writer that I can finally finish the projects I start. 
> 
> I'd like to thank all of you for being with me this far. I have so many loyal, consistent readers, even those of you who I know don't leave comments. 
> 
> I appreciate you making this journey so much more fulfilling and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Bastila and Carth weren't talking to each other, making their trip toward the docking bay oppressive. Cass tried to push it all to the side, leaning against the wall of the elevator as it sank to the lowest depths of the ship, finding it easy with the way his mind was occupied by the presence.

Consumed by it might be a more accurate descriptor, because Cass was able to focus on little else even though he knew he should be worried about Carth right now.

The soldier had just been through an ordeal, facing his old mentor, but...

Well, considering Carth wouldn't make eye contact with him now, Cass doubted Carth wanted his help anyway.

The lower the elevator went, the more Cass could feel the presence, pushing back against it with all his will, realizing as his stomach did flips that it was too late. Malak was already here. Malak was waiting for them, for _him_ , their came of cat and mouse finally drawing to a close after many weeks searching for the pieces of the Star Forge.

It occurred to Cassus then and there, as the doors slid open, that it was possible Malak already knew what they were doing, that he simply didn't think it possible that they could succeed...

Though that was unlikely, considering he seemed to think it was necessary to meet them personally. All his other methods of thwarting them had failed, from the destruction of Taris to his attempts on their lives. So why this? Why the trap?

It surely wasn't just for Bastila.

No.

He already knew the answer, didn't he?

Malak had told him.

_I want to see you face to face._

"Stay on guard," he announced, stepping from the elevator glancing around the abandoned deck, a few bodies or parts of droids scattered about from their allies' escape to the Hawk. "Malak is close. I can feel him."

Bastila nodded morosely, still pale from her confrontation with Carth, but didn't say anything, grasping her saber staff in her hands as if it could ward off the Dark Lord of the Sith. Carth's lips pressed together, and he swung his pistols from his holsters, saying nothing else, acknowledging that he'd heard in no other way, making Cass' heart sink into his churning stomach.

"Cheery group," Cass muttered under his breath, straightening his back and advancing down the abandoned corridors, footsteps echoing through the ship.

With each step, his anticipation grew, the Dark presence looming larger, the world around them growing hotter with each step. Anger seemed to wash across the metal planks, filling his lungs with every breath, molten hot, but controlled. Cass knew it was Malak - he could feel him through that anger - waiting for them like a proper host.

Cass grit his teeth into a forced smile, suddenly fighting the urge to laugh hysterically, but a small part of him could only think how this was _just like_ Malak, that this is _exactly_ what he would have expected, a feeling that grew stronger with every step.

He didn't know Malak.

He...

Had no memory of him.

Time to think about it was running out with every step Cass took closer to the door. He thought he'd have time to prepare, but Malak was crafty, more clever than anyone would assume the man who'd bombed two worlds to extinction could be.

Instead, he had to settle for making himself cold, hardening his heart.

No matter what Malak said, he would be ready.

Even if Malak confirmed what he most dreaded to be true.

The doors slid open, Malak standing inside, his black eyes lit with a furious fire, laughing mechanically when Carth fired his pistols. Deflecting the bolts with a wave of his hand, his outstretched palm calling upon the Force as he made Carth kneel before him, amusement and anger radiating from him, watching the Captain with his intense gaze.

"I've been waiting for you," he said, turning his attention to Cassus, who stood equally frozen, aware that both Bastila and Carth were staring at him with vastly different expressions on their faces. "I suppose this meeting was destined from the moment you crawled away from the wreckage."

Cass grit his teeth as Malak laughed, dropping his hand back to his side, where it fell on the hilt of his saber. "Tell me, did you think you could reclaim your Empire so easily? That I would just roll over and relent when you showed yourself to be alive?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cass replied, voice more angry than it was strained, his words followed by a silence so profound that the slow intake of Malak's breath through his respirator seemed thunderous.

The silence teetered for a moment longer, Bastila's eyes wide and pleading, Carth tearing his gaze away to stare at the floor, guilt momentarily flashing over his features before the silence was shattered by Malak's hysterical laughter.

"So the rumors are true! You really don't remember a thing?" The Dark Lord tossed his head back, his presence looming more than his physical form, though he was actually shorter than Cass. "Oh, this is hilarious!"

"I have memories," Cass objected, unconsciously drawing up to his full height, leering down at Malak.

"Of course you do," Malak said, stepping closer, laughing again when Cass took a half step back. "Oh, don't be stupid! You've had to have realized by now, haven't you, Revan?"

Those two syllables sent a shock down Cass' spine, freezing him to the ground as Malak stalked toward him, reaching out and placing his hand on Cass' shoulder, locking eyes with him. For a moment suspended in time, nothing happened, but then memories began to flood Cass' mind, painfully invading his mind, Malak's voice, his presence, completely dominating all of Cass' senses.

Blood, metal, the static of the dark side of the Force, the smell of ozone, burning flesh...

Hard edges, blazing fire, shrapnel biting into his skin, smoke choking his lungs, the dust of Korriban leaving the taste of limestone on his tongue...

Red sand and cliffs, ashes drifting on the wind, stone monoliths guarding ancient sarcophagus, the rust red of a Droid's chassis, green lightning striking across a pitch black sky...

"Surely, there have been hints?" Malak asked, voice echoing across the landscape of his mind. "Signs? A man as brilliant as you, ignoring the evidence?"

Laughter sent pain flaring through Cass' entire body, and he reached out, bracing a hand against Malak's shoulder, his lips curling up into a growl, teeth barred.

"Sentimentality has made you weak, my old Master! You know who you are!"

Revan, standing on top of the Sith Academy on Korriban, overlooking his forces, a black and grey ocean of bodies before him, interrupted only by the red of command. Behind him, Malak, speaking words that he couldn't quite hear, until he and Malak were alone, and Revan...

His _mask_.

Familiar hands reached up, and Cass, trapped half in the vision, half on the Levithan, suddenly heard only his own heartbeat, like a heard of hooved beasts thundering across a plain.

He knew what he would see before it happened, but it still didn't prevent the strangled noise that escaped his lips when the mask dropped to his side and Cass saw his own, warped face staring back at him. Corrupted, dark, black hair slicked back beneath that hood, yellow eyes glinting very nearly playfully from skin so white it looked like bleached bone. It could have been a trick, he might have believed it, if Cass didn't already know, if he hadn't known since Mannaan, and even if he hadn't...

That _smile_.

The grin that split his face from side to side.

It was unmistakably his own smile.

Rage rose inside of him, but Cassus -- no, _Revan_ \-- knew that his own rage was cold. More than cold enough to rival the heat of Malak's hatred.

 Revan narrowed his eyes, pushing Malak violently away with the Force, smiling grimly at his former... Former apprentice.

Former... _Friend_.

"Well played, Dark Lord," he said, watching the expression on Malak's face morph from triumph to fury in a matter of moments, finding it incredibly satisfying to watch. "I suppose I should congratulate you on plotting my demise, unfortunately, that would have required you to be successful. Such a shame."

"Oh, no need to feel sorry" Malak growled in response, his voice modulator vibrating with the effort, rage buffeting off of Revan's defenses. "This is a convenience for me. Your survival only means that when I finally do destroy you, my claim will be more legitimate."

"Then you shouldn't have tried to blow me up in the first place," Revan snapped back, watching Bastila wince out of the corner of his eye, making him feel guilty enough to reign in his reaction. "You're going to tell me why I can't remember anything, Malak. You're going to tell me why Cassus Jaylen exists."

Malak chuckled, his shoulders shaking as genuine amusement swam in the depths of his black eyes. "You're still the same as you always were, even if weakened by sentimentality. If you're going to run your mouth at someone," Malak gestured to Bastila, "ask our Jedi friend why you ended up in the employ of your most hated enemies."

Revan scoffed, but he turned his attention to Bastila, his expression softening as he looked at her. She looked terrified, refusing to meet his eyes, and suddenly the pieces fell into place --

All her fear of Cassus had been because she had _known_. She had always known, from the very beginning, even on Taris. He'd already suspected that she might have been in on it, that the Jedi Council had told her, but he should have...

He should have _realized_ that she ...

"You were there on the Behemoth when Malak tried to kill me," he said gently, ignoring the look of curious satisfaction in Malak's eyes while Carth still stared furiously at the floor. "Why, Bastila?"

She finally looked up at him, meeting his gaze.

"Why didn't you just let me die?"

As far as he was concerned, it would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.

"I was sent there to capture you," she admitted, rubbing her arm, glancing away in shame, her eyes darting toward the ground. "The Jedi Order has always wanted you alive, so when Malak fired on the bridge, I... I had to save you. I couldn't just --"

"Stop lying to him."

Both of their eyes snapped to Malak, who was glaring at Bastila as if her supposed dishonesty had personally offended him. Revan's first inclination was to defend her, but his curiosity and the feelings of personal betrayal he was fighting against, intermingled with his heartache, held his tongue in check.

"You didn't save him out of the goodness of your heart, Bastila," Malak continued when words seem frozen in her throat, unable to come out as anything more than stutters. "You saved him because he's the only other person in the Galaxy who knows where the pieces of the Star Map are!"

The words were like a hook across the jaw, enough that Revan visibly winced, some truth to Malak's words confirmed when Bastila continued to refuse to meet his eyes.

"Bastila?" he asked, his voice angry enough that she shrank away from him, cold enough that he could feel it radiate across the tiles, warring with Malak's heat.

"It's true," she admitted, then continued her response, clearly sensing the overwhelming despair Revan could feel fighting a winning war with his fury. "B-but it didn't stay that way! Your mind was damaged too badly for me to heal, Revan, I -- I brought you to the Council. I never meant for this to happen. I... I really do...  I really do respect you." She sputtered out, wringing her hands together, Revan's heart softening for her -- _only_ for her. "This doesn't change the way I feel."

"I know," he said, taking a deep breath, trying to avoid dwelling on the subject of change for longer than he strictly needed to. "Where does Cassus Jaylen come from, Bastila? You know... Don't you?"

He thought about Cass -- about himself, about... Revan, he supposed, while she searched herself for the strength to answer. This all felt... So dreamlike, still, like a cruel joke. His mind was filled with dissonance, a disconnect between reality and what logic told him, but this was still easier to accept than he had thought it would be.

The name, at least.

Maybe... Because he had known since Kashyyyk, if he were being honest.

"The Council believed your mind couldn't be repaired, but they still needed you," Bastila said at last, looking up into his face unwaveringly at last. "Because we had developed a Force Bond when I healed you, I convinced them to let me lead you to the pieces of the Star Map. It was the only hope we had, Revan. _You_ were the only hope we had."

"I think you believe that's true," Revan said, his voice still gentle, reaching out for her for a moment before letting his hand fall to his side. "I'm just not convinced it is, and it's not _you_ I don't trust."

He turned his attention back toward Malak.

"It's the Jedi Council."

"Revan?" Bastila asked, voice edging into frantic pleading, a tone he'd never really heard from her before. "What do you mean?"

"I'm still me, inside my subconscious," he replied, reaching for his lightsaber, certain Malak would have grinned if he could have. "I've always been there, inside my own mind. I've changed so much since we met on Taris, there's no _way_... I've been there the entire time. They could have _saved_ me."

Malak's eyes, always quick, saw Carth reach for his blasters, and froze both he and Bastila in place as Revan's saber ignited, casting violet light against the metal bulkhead.

"They've been using me like a guided missile, an easily controlled puppet. Maybe they hoped I'd take myself out with you, Malak."

Malak laughed at that, his saber igniting with a savage hiss, red light dancing across his metal brace. "A foolish move, on their part," the Dark Lord conceded as he circled his former Master, "but completely unsurprising. They never did understand you couldn't control a force of nature."

Revan made the first move, testing Malak as he leapt forward, lashing out. As he suspected, Malak easily parried the blow, his black eyes boring into Revan with an intensity Revan could only match.

A moment later, Malak was striking at him, Revan blocking the blow without thinking, forcing the white-hot tip of the saber away from his body.

An opening.

Watch his footwork, his body, not his eyes -- Makashi, curved hilt, best countered by defense or agility -- Rely on the Force, test his limits.

The information flashed through Revan's mind as the pace increased, each feint met with precision, step by step, saber's flashing and sizzling with each contact of the blades.

Before long, he'd fallen into step, just like he'd always known how to duel with a lightsaber, driving Malak slowly back toward a wall, growing more aggressive and confident with each blow. He'd only need to take advantage of an opening, any opening, channeling his emotions into each blow as if he'd been doing so all his life.

It was too late he realized he'd been caught up in the flow of the fight without focusing on his objective, too late he realized he'd left an opening over his left shoulder.

It was an opening Malak, the better duelist, quickly took advantage of, his saber swinging down hard and fast, so quickly that it was a blur that Revan only barely blocked the bulk of it, but though the blow didn't sever his limb, it still made contact.

The tip of Malak's saber pressed into his shoulder, sending white hot pain through every nerve in Revan's body. He cried out in pain, Malak's laughter echoing mockingly in his ears the truest motivator he'd ever had to stop his legs from buckling underneath him. Gritting his teeth, lightsabers sparking where they were locked together, Revan pushed Malak back with the help of the Force, watching Malak stagger away only to advance on him again.

Terror strike Revan like lightning, but he had no time to act on it because a moment later, his feet left the ground, knocked back by the Force.

At first, he thought it must have been Malak, wanting to kill him on his knees, but the hum of a saberstaff as its twin blades ignited gave Bastila away and filled him with a completely _different_ kind of terror.

"No!" He shouted, meeting her eyes as he flew back toward the door, the yellow blades of her staff striking the control panel a moment later, blast doors slamming shut in his face.

Revan found himself sprawled on the ground outside of the docking bay besides Carth, who looked dazed and resigned more than anything else, springing to his feet as he dismissed his blade, slamming on the door with his good hand. "Bastila! Damnit, Bastila! You can't -- You can't just --!"

A firm hand pulled him back from the door, dragging him away.

"Stop. We don't have time for this." Carth said, voice firm, Revan's body going limp as he let himself be pulled away from the door. "She scarified herself so you could get off the Leviathan and still have a chance of saving the Republic!"

Revan looked toward him, finding Carth's face furious and inflexible, and shook himself of the other man's hold, pushing past him to race toward the docking bay. He said nothing, fighting against the despair that had all but replaced the fury he'd felt what somehow felt both years and seconds before, his shoulder throbbing with every step.

Bastila...

Bastila...

Bastila...

A lump welled in his throat, and Revan didn't even try to fight it, face streaked with tears by the time he reached Juhani and Canderous, who were standing outside, talking about the number of troopers they'd managed to kill. When they saw him, they both looked at him in shock, though Canderous quickly schooled it behind grit and toughness.

Typical Mandalorian.

What a _comfort_ , especially knowing he was the one who had wholesale murdered massive numbers of Canderous' people.

"Where's Bastila?" Juhani asked, as shock morphed to concern, her eyes flickering between Revan's face and his arm.

"Just get on the fucking ship," Revan snapped. "And Canderous, get your ass on the guns. We're going to have fighters on us like flies on bantha shit the moment we leave this docking bay."

They both exchanged a glance, likely because he was speaking differently, he realized with mute shock beneath his layers of grief and anguish. Instead of responding to either of their looks, he pushed past them, Carth closely behind him, shouting over his shoulder for them to hurry, making his way to the cockpit, ignoring the concerned stares of the crew.

"I'll keep them off us," Carth said as he sunk into the pilot's seat, flicking switches as the Hawk came to life underneath them, "just initiate the jump to hyperspace."

Revan reached up, nodding numbly, moving slowly with one arm as the Hawk lurched, not bothering to change the coordinates from Dantooine. Even if the Enclave was a crater, he highly doubted every Jedi on the planet had been murdered, and selfishly... Selfishly...

He wanted _answers_.

The Hawk spun and flipped, guns firing as Canderous disposed of the Sith fighters and Carth got them clear just in time for the viewport to turn into blue lines, the Hawk shuddering as she jumped to Hyperspace. Panting, Revan simply stared out the viewport, finally noticing the black on the edges of his vision.

_Kriff._

"Carth?" he asked, his own voice distant, the Captain's eyes snapping to him as if standing at attention. "Carth?"

"What?" Carth asked, voice harsh, but...

Well, at least Carth was talking to him again.

"Get Bindo. I'm... I'm going to pass out. I need... Medical. Gotta have kolto somewhere on this damn ship, don't ... we?" Suddenly remembering something, he reached down, quickly unfastening the pouch that Mission had given him full of medpacs, throwing them clumsily at Carth's head. "Here. Probably good to use them for the minor wounds."

Carth stood, pausing for a moment at the threshold, looking back at Revan as things grew progressively darker. "You can't die... Commander. The fate of the entire Galaxy is on your shoulders now, and I'd rather not see everyone die on your account."

Revan snorted, listening to Carth's footsteps recede into the distance, imagining, for a moment, the innocent people of Taris and Bastila's face.

"Either would I, Captain," he said, to the empty cockpit as darkness finally consumed him. "Either would I."

* * *

 He slept without dreams, waking alone in the Hawk's small medbay, checking immediately to see if he could still sense Bastila somewhere in the Galaxy, relief flooding his body when he realized that she was alive. It wasn't for his own sake, or the guilt he would feel if Malak had killed her, but because he was already resolved to save her, even if it cost him his life in the process.

She deserved better, especially after sacrificing herself ... For _him_.

For a moment, he sat there in the darkness, eyes shut, pretending that he wasn't awake, trying not to face his own thoughts, but his mind was as active as it ever was. Apparently, Revan was just as much of an insufferable, restless, bastard as Cass had been.

Not really a surprise.

_Revan._

Now there was a thought, a thought he might have dismissed as one of his nightmares if his shoulder still didn't ache from where Malak's saber had sunk into his flesh. It was treated, but even with treatment, lightsaber wounds were nasty, and the Force had probably been looking out for him by giving him Bindo, a Jedi war veteran.

Though he guessed he was a war veteran too, now.

Slowly, he sat up, testing his shoulder by rolling it, catching his reflection in the mirror across from the little bed. He knew what he looked like -- lean, dark haired, dark eyed, face covered in dark stubble, straight nosed, fair skinned... weird looking on the wrong side of attractive, as far as he was concerned.

But something about _seeing_ himself, seeing himself and knowing that he was...

Well, himself?

It made him start laughing at the idea that Revan, legendary Revan, Revan the hero, the savior, the villain, the conqueror, could be so...

So...

Completely unassuming in nearly every way.

He laughed for awhile longer, until Bindo stuck his head into the room, giving him a long, critical look.

It had felt good to laugh, but Revan made himself stop, more pieces falling into place when he saw Bindo and realized...

"Well, I guess I'm the viper after all," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, glancing back toward the mirror. "I can't really hide from it anymore."

Bindo was quiet, stepping into the room, the door shutting behind him. For a moment, he simply looked at Revan before sighing, sitting down on the bed beside him a moment later. "So you know."

"There was a non-zero chance that Malak wasn't going to tell me," Revan said. "Looking back on all of this, the Jedi Council was acting foolishly... Not just in erasing my memories, but by thinking Malak wouldn't tell me. Did they think they could keep it from me forever?"

Bindo snorted, looking at Revan before he looked at the hands he had folded together in his lap instead. "Well, the Jedi are known for being blind to anything outside of their narrow worldview. I've learned, over my long life, that they're just very well intentioned idiots."

Revan laughed lightly, rubbing his hands over his face, taking a deep breath. "Right. Well. I suppose they'll justify this by telling me that they were just trying to save the Galaxy." He paused, dropping his hands back to the bed and leaning his head back to stare at the pale grey ceiling of the medbay. "I can't remember anything, Bindo. I can only remember Cass, and even then, I realize now that his memories are a bit..." He snorted. "Lackluster."

"Would you have been loyal to the Republic if they'd left your mind alone?" Bindo asked, and Revan had the distinct impression that he was asking out of curiosity, not out of any loyalty of his own.

Not that it was particularly surprising.

Bindo... Had confessed to having difficult feelings about the Republic not so long ago himself.

Revan rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully for a moment, frowning as he thought about his answer, staring blankly at the place where the wall met the floor.

"I've never been loyal to the Republic," Revan replied. "Of course, I can't really answer that with complete certainty, but from everything I know about Revan, he was only ever loyal -- " He cut himself off, laughing breathily as he shook his head slowly from side to side. "I. I was only ever loyal to the idea of saving lives and my own friends."

Bindo didn't respond, and Revan wrung his hands together, looking at them, thinking about the things his hands had done -- Things he had no memory of.

The same hands that had cut off Malak's jaw were the hands that had freed Juhani and...

And the hands that rebelled against the Jedi to prove the brutality of the Mandalorians.

"I still am. I don't care about the Republic. The government itself can burn, for all care, for all the good it did for the people living on the Outer Rim. I care about the innocents who populate those worlds, and even if it changes after... After everyone knows... I..." He laughed softly for a second time, running his hands over his face again. "I'll still care about all of you."

All was quiet for a moment longer before Bindo stood, his knees creaking with age. Revan looked up into his face, searching it, somehow certain he wouldn't like what was about to be said. Steeling himself, he looked into Bindo's eyes unwaveringly, deciding that he didn't have the time or energy to be ashamed.

He had too much to think about and do.

Too much occupying him.

"Makes me wonder how that turned into the Sith Lord," Bindo said at last, eyes piercing underneath his white eyebrows. "Be careful, young man. You Fell because you cared too much once. You could do it again."

Revan laughed after the words sunk in, a reaction that apparently surprised Bindo, whose brows furrowed deeply in confusion. "It's disrespectful to laugh at your elders, especially if you're not going to let them in on the joke."

"I just..." He shook his head. "I'm not saying it's impossible, but I don't _want_ the Sith Empire. I'm not even sure I want revenge on _Malak_. I... I haven't even thought about this long enough to know how this feels. It's so absurd. It's so kriffing... _Stupid_. All of this," Revan gestured around them, pausing for a moment.

He rubbed the back of his neck, silent laughter shaking his shoulders, held in by some semblance of dignity he never knew he'd possessed.

"I just want Bastila to be safe... I want... I want Carth not to hate me anymore... I want..." Revan's laughter choked into a sob, his shoulders slumping, his body beginning to tremble. "I want this all to be some horrible nightmare, but it isn't. I'm Revan. I'm... **_Revan_**."

Bindo didn't say anything, but he didn't leave, either.

Instead, he stood in the room with Revan, who had curled in on himself, weeping as he stared at his feet through his tears, warms wrapped around himself. Everything finally settled into place, every errant piece of information and every emotion, none of them good, compounding into one, gut churning moment of realization.

It _wasn't_ a dream.

Cass _was_ Revan, he had always _been_ Revan, from the beginning.

He was Revan on Taris, on Dantooine, and beyond.

He was Revan now, sitting here, in the medbay with Bindo.

He didn't suddenly become Revan when Malak had said the words, and denying that he was Revan wasn't going to suddenly make him someone else.

The man who had done all of those horrible things, who had tried to conquer the Galaxy for reasons he couldn't even remember or explain, let alone begin to justify, sitting here on this bed, on this ship, with these people --

That man.

 _He_ was Revan.

He wasn't an abstract concept or a phantom.

Revan wasn't dead.

Not anymore.

"What do I do?" he asked, his voice hoarse, not expecting an answer from Bindo. "How do I make sense of all of this? All these things I've heard? I..." He choked out something that could have been a laugh through his tears. "I don't _feel_ like a force of nature. I don't _feel_ like a man who can sway legions. I feel the same as I always have."

"I don't think most people with destiny swirling around them feel like forces of nature," Bindo said, drawing Revan's gaze, "and those that do pay for their arrogance in small ways. Trust me when I say the Force has a sense of humor."

Revan snorted, shaking his head slowly. "Is that why this happened? I'm being pranked by the Force?"

"No," Bindo said quietly. "You were an ambitious, dark thing when I saw you on Kashyyyk the first time, but you were also conflicted. Maybe this happened because the Force willed it, but I don't think anyone finds it funny."

"Malak does," Revan pointed out. "I suppose it's only fair. I took his jaw and he... Took my entire identity, indirectly."

He took a deep breath, stretching out his legs and leaning back, staring at the ceiling again. For a moment, he listened to the sounds of the Hawk, they hum of the hyperdrive, the quiet talking of the crew in the other room, and Bindo's breathing, just taking it all in.

Nothing around him had changed, not really. It was the same ship, nearly all the same people, and the same mission he'd been given back during his induction into the Jedi Order on Dantooine.

And yet, everything around him had changed.

A hapless smuggler from Deralia who had been unfortunate enough to trip his way into Force powers and a destiny larger than he could possibly understand had a different relationship to his crew and the Galaxy than Revan, Conqueror of Worlds, Savior of Galaxies, had.

He couldn't go back to pretending.

As much as he wanted to.

As easy as going on with the lie would be, assuming Carth or Bindo didn't force him to tell anyone.

"I have to own up to it," he said, glancing back down, looking toward Bindo, who was staring at him with open curiosity on his face -- ever the observer. "I can't just brush off responsibility. It would feel wrong."

Revan sucked in a breath and leaned forward, bracing an elbow on his knee as he rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "I don't know what will happen to me after all of this is over, but all of this is... My fault. The crew deserves to know. They deserve to make a choice. I won't be like the Jedi Council." His eyes flickered closed and he squeezed his neck too hard, knuckles turning white. "I'll give them their free will back."

"You care about them," Bindo said quietly, his tone of voice soft and insultingly bemused.

Revan grit his teeth.

"Most of us watched a planet blow up together, two of them are my droids, and Juhani admires me. Of course I care for them. Bastila isn't the only one I --" He cut himself off, opening his eyes to look at Bindo again. "I guess I didn't make it obvious."

There was another thoughtful pause, and Revan smiled thinly. "I'm not going to stop caring about them if they decide to leave, but knowing who I am? I'm not even sure _I_ want to be around me. I know my destiny intrigues you, so I can depend on you, and Carth won't rest until Malak is dead and his son is safe, but the others... I want them to be safe. I want them to be happy. That means they should have the right to choose. I won't lie to them."

Bindo looked at him, but said nothing, nodding a moment later.

It was quiet again, for a time, conversation failing until Bindo sighed. "Do you need to be alone, son?"

"Yes," Revan answered so quickly, his voice overlapped with the last resonations of Bindo's voice.

"Yes," he repeated again, more gently, "I do. I need time to figure this out. I..." he sighed. "Thank you."

Bindo simply left the room, leaving Revan alone with the unpleasant task of coming to some sort of conclusion about himself before he faced his allies. As much as he hated to admit it, he doubted he'd ever share the same equality with them again, even if they did somehow miraculously accept him.

Cass was a charming rogue among misfits, soldier, and Jedi.

Revan was...

He was the former Supreme Commander, Jedi Master, and Dark Lord of the Sith.

Quickly cutting off that line of thought, Revan crossed his legs underneath himself, remember what he'd only recently told himself about his realm being that of the spiritual. The Force might have an answer, and if it didn't it might at least provide him with a semblance of balance and certainty that he was on the right path, even if it took him years to unpack the reality of being Revan.

All he had left, after all, was that single hope.

Not even Bastila could save him from himself now.


	28. Part Three; Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some new material, but also some stuff heavily based on canon in this chapter. Before jumping into more emotionally tense stuff in dealing with Dustil and the Sith, I feel like we need a few chapters of cooldown from the previous emotional roller coaster. 
> 
> In spite of the slower pace, I hope you enjoy it!

It was quiet in the Ebon Hawk, everyone gathered in one place, Canderous and Mission on the dejarik table, engaged in a quick game, Juhani talking to Bindo in a corner, while Carth polished the surface of one his pistols while the T3 sat nearby and Hk watched them all for a corner. Without Bastila, everything seemed more morose, everyone probably recovering just as much as he was, and worrying about him, his wound, and his particularly out of character behavior.

Not that it was out of character for him, really.

It was probably just a manifestation of feelings and thoughts he usually kept to himself.

"Hey," he greeted, everyone's eyes flashing to him, some with more intensity than others, he noted as he passed Carth, who was staring at him like his hands might grow lightsaber fingers for the sole purpose of chopping Mission into pieces.

_Kriffing hell._

Was Carth going to watch him like that on his own ship the rest of the time they traveled together?

Because he could see that getting old fast.

"Took you long enough, Flyboy," Mission said, breaking the tension that had settled over them, almost like a pack of kath hounds was in the room with them and no one wanted to mention them. "You okay?"

Revan looked into her face, searching it, bracing his hands against the back of the bench and breathing a deep breath, his eyes flickering closed a moment later. Genuine concern wafted on the room's otherwise tense emotional current and probably wouldn't last that much longer. He just wasn't... Really sure where to start.

"If you don't tell them," came Carth's voice, smashing his train of thought into pieces, "I will."

"I'm going to tell them," Revan said coldly, his grip on the back of the bench tightening, "but you need to give me more than four minutes. This is kind of big news, Carth. I'm not going to deliver it in a song and dance number."

Carth's mouth audibly snapped closed, but he seemed content to give Revan time, at least.

Good to see he could be reasoned with.

Revan drew back up to his full height, hand clasping the back of his neck, nerves making his stomach churn. He could do this, he told himself. Their comfort and safety was more important to him than his own pride, even if he had to go through the rest of this alone, with only Bindo, Carth, and the droids for company.

This wasn't about what he felt.

It was about what he _had_ to do.

"Honestly? I'm just going to come out and say it," he began, raising his head to stare at Carth, finding it easier than looking at anyone else's face. "The Jedi Council has lied to you. I'm not really Cassus Jaylen, not that I could remember that, and Revan didn't really die on the Behemoth."

Mission and Canderous, specifically, looked like they both wanted to say something, but Revan cut them off before they could, driving forward. He would deliver this point, get it over with, and then let the pieces fall where they were prone to. No, it was better this way, he had to keep telling himself.

If he didn't, he wasn't sure he could actually do this.

"I'm Revan."

The words dropped, and he felt the tension shatter, the room erupting into questions after a stunned silence, T3 whistling over the chaos as HK's servos made a noise like hell unleashed and the assassin slumped over, overloaded. It could have been a joke, if it weren't for the complete lack of any motion, something not even HK could pull off.

Carth looked surprised, like he hadn't actually been expecting Revan to do it, but that wasn't really surprising, either. The good Captain seemed to be in a bad place, his entire worldview having been shattered in a matter of hours, the Galaxy spinning out of control around him.

Revan would have had more empathy for him if he wasn't in a worse situation, but he resolved to be understanding.

He... was a monster, after all.

"What about Bastila?" Juhani asked, the only one who had seemed to find a way to coherently communicate with him in the last five minutes.

"Malak has her," Revan replied, no longer quite as surprised at the anger in his own voice. "She used herself as a diversion to get Carth and I out of there. For the record... She knew. She's the only reason I'm not a smear on some of the Behemoth's debris, from what I understand."

Juhani's eyes widened, but she quickly nodded in understanding, watching with him as Canderous stood up and walked out of the room without saying a word. He seemed angry, but Revan couldn't actually tell why, and had learned long ago that Canderous was the sort to surprise him. He'd wait for Canderous to come to him, to talk to him, focusing instead on Mission, who was staring at the dejarik table with an empty expression on her face, Zalbaar already walking towards her.

He hung back, not really sure what she was going to say to him now.

"I... I don't get it," Mission said quietly, standing, her head finally whipping toward him as she stared at him once more, a pleading expression on her face. "Revan is the reason this war started in the first place, isn't he? So are you telling me you... You're the one who tried to conquer the Republic?"

"I don't remember doing any of that," Revan admitted, holding her gaze, no matter how difficult it was for him to do, "but yes. I am."

"I don't get it, Flyboy," she said. "It doesn't make sense at all. How... How can you be the same person? Are you sure the Big Sith wasn't just lying to you to get into your head?"

Her words were pleading, and something Revan himself very much would like to believe, but Malak wasn't that devious. No, he wasn't the devious one at all. He was direct and honest. He had no reason to lie, especially when Revan's pain amused him, when Revan's struggle brought him pleasure.

Revan had been the clever one, though apparently not clever enough.

"Yes," he said, not wanting to leave her hanging for too long, knowing each moment had to feel like an eternity dragging out when you were discovering your friend was some kind of ... Evil... Warlord. "I know he's telling the truth. I'm... sorry."

"I just... I don't..." Mission made a frustrated noise, standing quickly. "Come on, Big Z. Let's go for a walk. It's suffocating in here."

He watched her go, not really sure what to feel about her response. Revan could tell she was upset, but again, being able to tell someone was upset didn't tell you why. It wasn't like with Bastila. There was no sense of exchange, here, just the storm of Mission's emotions and Zalbaar's sadness tinged with confusion and stark resolution to defend Mission, no matter what it came down to.

Revan couldn't blame him.

He had the impression there was a time he might have died for Malak or ... Meetra.

T3, beeping mournfully, scuttled back toward the cockpit, Carth silently standing to follow him, leaving Revan alone with a busted out Assassin Droid and two other Jedi.

"Well, that was a ride," he said dryly, finally walking around to sink down onto the bench, arms and legs sprawled out as he stared up at the ceiling. "I feel like I'm in a holodrama, except this is honestly a bit too bizarre and more cruel than anything I've seen the morning soaps try to pull off. Dark Lord, returning from the dead, amnesic, with the belief that he's just some harmless smuggler from Deralia? Sounds fake, to me. No way will audiences buy it. One star ratings."

Bindo snorted, "Tell us how you _really_ feel."

"Oh, I feel great, outside of the existential agony at finding out my entire life was a lie and grief that Bastila might very well die because of me, thanks. How about you?" He breathed out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. "What about you, Juhani? Everyone else has dramatically stormed off who's prone to dramatic storming. What about you?"

Juhani, who had been standing quietly until this moment, sat down beside him, reaching out and placing her hand on his shoulder. "Revan, you saved my life. You are the reason I am no longer a slave. How could I ever believe you truly evil?"

It took a moment for the words to sink in, warring with the knowledge that he was Lord of the Sith, clashing with everyone else's reaction, but... Revan had been someone else, once. Jorren, if he remembered correctly, a Jedi on a crusade to prove to the Jedi Council that the Mandalorians were engaging in brutality against the people of the Galaxy. And in that process, he had saved lives.

 ** _He_** had saved lives.

Juhani's life among them.

Revan was a difficult and complex person, maybe, but he was... Still a person.

And to some people, he was still a hero.

"Thank you," he said quietly, looking from her clawed hand into her eyes. "I needed to hear that. It's funny, it's the reverse of when we first met. You're pulling me back, reminding me I'm not some one-dimensional caricature of a man. I don't... Have to choose to be the same person I was."

"We all have a choice, Revan," Juhani told him seriously, looking up into his face. "You were the one who taught me that. You have always taught me that. Don't let this defeat you. I know you are stronger than whatever Malak planned to cause by telling you this."

Revan smiled at her, feeling himself relax, reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder, returning the gesture. There was a sense of solidarity here, and friendship.

 _Friendship_.

All of this had been worth something, after all.

"Thank you," he said quietly so his voice wouldn't carry. "I just feel lost. This was... I won't say it was the last thing I expected, but having guessed doesn't make it any easier."

"I do not think anyone could have taken this is stride," Juhani purred reassuringly. "Have faith in our friends, Revan. They will come around, in time."

"I wouldn't blame them if they didn't," he said, pushing himself up into a standing position, "but I'll give them time. That's all I can really reasonably ask for at this point."

Juhani watched him and stood a moment later. "We should spar," she offered. "I believe it will get your mind off of things for awhile. I would really prefer not to lose my touch."

Revan smiled, feeling some of the weight lift off of his shoulders, then glanced toward Bindo. "Want to come give us disapproving looks and talk about the good old days?"

"Be careful mocking me. You may be the most brilliant mind of your generation, but they didn't teach you everything in Jedi school. This old man has a few tricks up his sleeves," Bindo grumbled, but followed them toward the cargo hold anyway, the only space on the Hawk large enough for this sort of activity. "Have to keep an eye on you young Jedi or you'll run off with your ideals."

"Too late," Revan said, smiling at his own expense. "I've already flown and crashed. Where were you ten years ago?"

"Come now, gentleman," Juhani interrupted before Bindo could get in a word of protest, "there are better ways to solve this than bickering. We should all keep our skills sharp in preparation for what's to come."

"I'm not sure this whippersnapper can take me in a fight," Bindo said. "He may be a veteran of the Mandalorian Wars, but I'm a veteran of the Sith War. Might as well take him down a notch before his head gets too big."

"We'll see, old man," Revan said, taking a deep breath and pushing his ruminations from his mind for the time being -- There were better things to focus on, like the Star Map and rescuing Bastila. "We'll see."

* * *

The surface of Dantooine was relatively untouched, save for the smoking crater of the Jedi Enclave, little more than charred and smoldering ruins. They were forced to land in a grassy field, discovering that some of the wealthy farmers from the area had taken in the refugees, but were fast running out of supplies to deal with their charges, leaving everything in somewhat dire straits.

The few Jedi survivors were doing what they could to aid the refugees that had worked in the Enclave, but their best means of communicating with the Jedi Temple on Coruscant had been destroyed and they had no means of asking for aid. Revan immediately set out to doing what he could, asking Carth to relay his orders to the members of the crew who weren't speaking to him at the moment, distributing aid from the Hawk's supplies amongst those most in need.

After all, they could resupply when they docked at Dreshdae. It wasn't like there were rules against freighters landing on the planet, just Republic ships, and the Ebon Hawk was a relatively unmarked freighter.

"It's not as bad as I thought it would be," Bindo said as the two of them looked out on the ruined Enclave, the land around it black and barren, filled with so many craters that it looked like a small moon. "Malak apparently had the good sense not to go after people not involved in his problems this time."

"It was bait," Revan replied. "It would have been counterproductive to kill everyone. He needed to be as fast as possible to get my attention, so a full-scale orbital bombardment would have been a useless waste of resources and time."

Bindo snorted. "Comforting to know the Sith are practical." He paused. "I don't think you're going to find anything worth looking for her, kid."

"I have a feeling," Revan said, slipping from the back of the beast the farmer had lent him to ride here. "I feel the call of the Force. Besides, this gets me out of Carth's hair for awhile, not that he has much of it anymore, considering how much he's been pulling out lately."

Bindo laughed, dismounting and patting the nose of the beast he'd rode in on. "True enough. That boy needs to learn that he can't control the Galaxy. I think he has a harder time rolling with the punches than you do. It's a wonder he's made it in the military at all."

"He probably wasn't always so rigid," Revan said, thinking about the dirty and frightened faces of the refugees, crowding in the farmer's stables, loud and quiet all at once. "I think the war has aged him. It's aged us all. Only people like Mission have been sparred, and even she's seen her own share of horrors."

"True enough," Bindo said as he tied the beasts to the branch of a soot-covered tree. "Hard to find any true innocence in this Galaxy, not after how war torn it's been." The old man sighed and sat down on a rock, his knees creaking with the movement. "I think I'll stay here, guard our friends from Kath Hounds."

"Good idea. Whatever I'm looking for... I'm only going to find it on my own."

He didn't wait for Bindo to respond, setting out across the damaged ground, his Jedi garb more practical for walking on this sort of terrain than the clothing of a spacer would have been. Actually, all of this made his broad skill set make more sense, considering he'd had years of Jedi training, not just a scant month.

Cass might have been a genius, but Revan was simply incredibly intelligent and very hardworking ... With years of buried memories and forgotten skills seared into his brain and muscles through his neuron pathways and motor memory. It was easy to recover the skills he'd forgotten, even if the rest of what he knew was mired in a thick fog that would never lift no matter how hard he'd concentrated or meditated.

No one man, it seemed, could undo what havoc the four Jedi Masters had managed.

The Force had done too good of a job.

He... Doubted he would ever remember.

Revan leapt into the air, elegantly landing on the other side of a large crater among massive pieces of shrapnel from the bombs that had struck the earth, growing ever closer to the remains of the Enclave. A small breeze brushed past his ear, rustling his robes and hair, and Revan reached up to stroke his stubbled chin thoughtfully, reaching out with his senses, trying to feel any signs of life through the Force.

There was someone there, he realized, looking beyond the Kath hounds that swarmed the ruins, probably trying to pick on the remains of the dead. A single, bright, life in the center of the old Enclave, someone well and in good health.

Revan's brow furrowed, and he set off through the bombardment zone, swiftly and quietly traveling amongst the craters and giant pieces of shrapnel that towered over him like monoliths. Briefly, he was reminded of other worlds he'd been to, worlds he couldn't quite remember, the smoldering wastes of Surja and Serocco, among others. Revan had seen a great deal of destruction in his life and had caused a great deal more, and he wasn't really sure how much of that destruction was a natural consequence of war and how much had been brutality he'd employed in response to the Mandalorians.

Unless he remembered, he'd have no way of knowing.

It's not like he could trust anyone else to have an objective view of his actions.

It was likely the only one who knew the truth was Malak.

He was just going to have to accept that there were some things he was never going to know about himself, no matter how difficult that was to come to terms with.

Revan was already having issues reconciling his identity with his past as a man who had conquered worlds and saved galaxies. He didn't really want to spend any more time twisting his poor mind into knots than he already was. That was something he might return to later, but right now...

Right now he just wanted some semblance of closure.

Finally, Revan came upon the ruins themselves, finding that a Jedi had already cut a hole into a piece of fallen rubble to serve as the entrance. Moving as quietly as he could, which was admittedly not very quietly as a pebble skittered across the remains of the tiled spaceport floor, Revan entered through the hole, though he had to risk contorting to do so.

"Why is everyone else so short?" he muttered. "It's like the world is built for short people."

Emerging on the other side, he stood tall again, looking around the ruin, finding it shockingly intact within. Perhaps there was more damage within the further reaches of the Enclave itself, but the port, at least, looked only slightly shaken, though there was still debris strewn about from the attack.

Walking quickly across the large expanse, climbing over a fallen pillar into the hallway, Revan found himself in the relatively untouched garden. The plant life, remarkably, remained mostly untouched, though the fountain had stopped working, leaving it filled with a stagnant pool of water, and from looking at the damage around him, it was evident to Revan that most of the rest of the facility had been completely destroyed by Malak's fleet.

"Padawan Jaylen?"

It was the second indication Revan had that he wasn't alone, prompting him to turn his head to find a very battered looking Master Dorak, the man bandaged in several places, still dressed respectably in worn Jedi robes. He looked concerned, his aged brow furrowed deeply as he hobbled forward, sitting on a fallen pillar a moment later, looking up into Revan's face. "Why are you here, Padawan? I thought you'd be on Korriban by now."

Revan hesitated, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up at Dantooine's cloudless blue sky, watching a Thranta pass as words swan in his head. "We were already en route to Dantooine from Manaan, Master. After hearing about the disaster from Malak, we decided to come here and see if we could do anything to help."

"Admirable, but I'm not certain Master Vrook would agree with your good intentions," Master Dorak admitted, staring at Revan with a very curious expression on his face."I'm sure he'd say the Galaxy was more important than the citizens of Dantooine, in this case, as regrettable as it is."

"You're not Master Vrook," he said, turning around to face Master Dorak fully, thinking for a moment. "The High Council members have returned to the Temple, haven't they?"

"Yes," the old archivist replied. "They offered to take me with them, but Dantooine is my home. It has been for years. I couldn't very well abandoned it." He took a deep breath, his contemplative frown deepening. "You seem different, Padawan Jaylen. What weighs so keenly on your mind?"

For a second time, Revan found himself hesitating, uncrossing his arms and rubbing them together, bowing his head. Master Dorak had shown him kindness before, and in hindsight, he realized the man had been apologizing in his own way for the things that the Jedi had done to him.

He did not deserve Revan's ire.

"I know what you did to me, Master Dorak," he said. "I know who I am."

The air between them grew tense, the wind picking up for a moment as if in response to Revan's words, barely disturbing the surface of the now stagnant fountain. Around them, the leaves of the trees rustled, and in a distance, a Kath Hound pack began to howl.

"I told the others that you would find out," Master Dorak admitted at least, breaking the tension. "I'm sorry for what we did to you. I've regretted it ever since, young Jorren. I'm still not certain it was the will of the Force."

"At this point, it doesn't matter," Revan admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and taking a deep breath. "It's too late for what-ifs and maybes, Master."

There was another silence, this one contemplative, Master Dorak staring at him with new eyes, his expression careworn. Revan stared back, standing straight backed and at attention, finally feeling like his own name belonged to him, the name he'd chosen for himself long ago, though he didn't remember the circumstances clearly.

"What do you plan to do?"

Revan rolled the question around in his mind, tasting his probable answers on his tongue before sighing. "My plans haven't changed, Master. I'm going to Korriban to find the last piece of the Star Map, and then I'll find Malak and his Star Forge and end this conflict that I started five years ago. I'm clearly not Darth Revan any longer. The Order succeeded in that, at least."

Master Dorak's exhalation of breath punctuated Revan's sentence perfectly, and the old Jedi looked down at his hands. He still looked world weary and worn, the skin on the back of his hands papery and thin, reminding Revan of Bindo, forcing him to recall that most of the Jedi Council were either far too old or far too young.

There were too few Jedi left.

That was his fault, in part.

"I sense that isn't all you plan to do," the archivist finally said, voice as tired and old as he was.

"I wanted to find the Jedi Council," he admitted. "I wanted... I don't know. Answers, I guess. Closure."

"They won't give you the answers you seek," Dorak told him gently, though his tone wasn't one of dissuasion.

"I know. I've already come to that conclusion on my own, but I have to try." Revan inhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to think past the sudden wave of quiet grief that filled him, bubbling up like ground water from a natural spring. "And even if I don't confront them, they need to be contacted. Someone has to convince them to help these people, and it might as well be me."

He paused and laughed, the sound carrying over the ruins, an echo that sent images creeping into his mind of a younger man standing in this same Enclave, laughing over more trivial things. "There's no need for anyone else to suffer Vrook's wrath if I'm prepared to do it already."

Master Dorak smiled the slightest of smiles, one that barely reached his visible eye. "You always did have a sense of humor, young Jorren, from the time you were very small."

Quietly, the man bent to rummage in his robes, pulling out a small communicator, handing it over to Revan, who kneeled before him so that the old man could press it firmly into his hands. "The frequency is here. I assume that ship of yours has a long range scanner you can use to reach them." The old man closed his eyes, still grasping Revan's hands, sucking in a deep breath. "Please, Jorren, take care of yourself. There has always been such an air of destiny about you, and I fear that the Darkness will swallow you again when the Galaxy most needs a light."

Revan looked into the old Jedi's face, a surge of affection hitting him, the feelings a student had for an old teacher. His face softening, he reached out to cover both of Dorak's hands with his free hand, searching the old man's expression, watching it soften into one of gentle affection and deepest worry.

Even the wisest of Jedi could not stop themselves from forming attachments.

"I will be strong, Master Dorak," Revan said quietly. "I promise."

Slowly, another smile dawned across Dorak's face. "You should go," he said in a hushed voice. "The Galaxy needs you, Jorren. You shouldn't keep it waiting."

Reluctantly, Revan pulled away, struck with a sudden feeling of finality as he began to walk back towards the exit, looking once more over his shoulder to see Master Dorak, sitting on the collapsed column, his eyes closed in meditation. Suddenly, he wondered if Master Dorak had returned here to die, but he pushed the thought from his head quickly.

His choices were his own, and Revan wouldn't deny him the right to go on his own terms, if that was what he wished.

Quickly as he could manage, he made his way back to Bindo, who stood when he arrived, dark eyes scanning Revan's form before he nodded. "Looks like you found what you were looking for."

"I did," he replied, reaching out to untie his beast from where it had been tethered. "We should hurry and make it back to the camp before nightfall. I don't want to be stuck out here when the Kath start swarming."

Bindo nodded, and they set off, finding them back in camp in short work, greeted by Juhani and a farmhand. She smiled at Revan as he dismounted, glancing back over her shoulder toward the camp as the hand took the animals.

"Things have been going fairly well here," she announced. "We have distributed what we could of the Hawk's supplies. Mission and Zalbaar have been regaling the refugee children with stories of our travels thus far."

"A good use of her time," Bindo said. "Those kids could use a distraction. Might have a few things I can tell them, now that I think about it." He nodded toward Revan. "If you'll excuse me."

Juhani and Revan watched him walk away in silence, standing together with their arms crossed over their chests as the wind rustled the tall fields of golden grain around them and played with the leaves of the trees in the orchard. For a moment, all was calm, and Revan felt an unusual peace welling within him, a sense of purpose as he had never felt before, tears pricking his eyes as he was hit with the feeling of finally coming _home_.

He'd never felt anything like it before.

A part of him regretted ever thinking this world was pastoral and boring when the people here were so simple and _good_.

Gently, Juhani touched his arm, drawing his attention.

"Did you find anything?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern, looking up at him with her inquisitive, feline eyes.

"Yes. I can contact the Jedi Council, get them to do something worthwhile and help these people," he smiled at her, and then laughed, choking off the sound with a snort. "I'm not being completely generous, of course. I want to talk to them. I want to know _why_ they did this to me."

"I cannot blame you," she admitted, her voice turning quiet. "I have felt betrayed by the Order myself. You pulled me back from that, and yet I wonder..." She hesitated, and her voice dropped off, lost to the wind as she looked away from him and stared back at the barn and the refugees.

"You wonder what?" he prompted gently, drawing her attention back to him.

"You are an undeniably good man, but I wonder if your future is with the Jedi," Juhani admitted. "In some ways you seem far too large to stay with the Order. Not after everything you've seen and done."

Revan smiled a reflective smile, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away from Juhani at the two shapes walking toward them. "You're probably right. I thought, before Manaan, before all of this, that I might stay, but... This changes everything. It changed _me_."

"You are handling it admirably," said his friend. "I know many who it would have broken, even myself, but you... You continue on. You are very brave."

Revan laughed, and the sound carried over the fields, echoing, birds taking flight at the sound, startled away. Hand on the back of his neck, he smiled as Mission and Zalbaar came into focus, their expressions both pensive. He could sense that they wanted to speak to him and turned his attention back to Juhani, who glanced back toward him briefly and nodded in understanding, turning and walking on silent feet back toward the barn.

Mission, uncharacteristically serious, stared up at him for a long moment before saying anything, even after she came into earshot. Instead, she motioned for him to follow her, and he did, out toward the fence around the property, which she promptly scaled with ease, balancing on it as she stared out into the fields.

Zalbaar, arms crossed over his chest, stood a little bit behind her, glancing toward Revan as he leaned out across the barrier, watching the sun sink in the sky, turning the fields amber and scarlet in its wake.

"So what's this about?" He asked. "I assume you've come to a decision about what to do?"

Mission didn't look at him, but she nodded, her expression slowly morphing from pensive to determined. "You're not Revan anymore."

Revan arched his eyebrows and opened his mouth, but Mission stopped him by snapping her head around and staring at him with her sharp and unwavering eyes. "No. You listen to me." Mission sucked in a deep breath, but continued, barreling on doggedly. "I get that you're Revan, okay? But you're not **_that_** Revan. It took me awhile to realize it, I think, because I thought about what the Sith did to Taris and I just got so _mad_... But when we got to Dantooine, you had us help the refugees here, just like you helped the people in the Undercity back home, and like you helped me and Big Z."

Mission looked back towards the fields, and smiled quietly to herself, drawing inward for a moment as her emotional barriers dropped, reminding Revan that she was still so young... A young woman who deflected with humor and spunk, toughened by life in the Tarisian Lower City, but a young woman nonetheless.

He remembered that underneath that tough veneer, she wasn't so different from him after all.

"I haven't forgotten how you helped me with Gryff. I... I remember what you said on Tatooine still, when I felt the lowest I ever have in my life. I still think of you as family." Mission laughed, shaking her head slowly from side to side. "I feel like an idiot for every doubting you. You're nothing like you used to be."

Revan's face softened, and he looked over his shoulder toward Zalbaar, who seemed to be patiently waiting his turn, looking down at them both as they interacted. Quitely, he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Can't say I blame you. I've been having problems seeing the metaphorical forest for the trees myself, if I'm honest. The truth is, I _was_ that man, and that alone is probably enough reason to hate me."

"People change, Commander Obvious," Mission said, pushing back at him playfully. "If they didn't, I'd have to hate myself for hating Lena forever. It's what you do now that counts. I'll always believe that. Right, Big Z?"

Both of them looked toward the Wookie, who looked between them, nodding, Bacca's Blade hanging at his side, which he drew attention to when he touched it with a massive hand. "You helped me," he said. "You helped my people. The man who graciously accepted my lifedebt is a changed man from the man who conquered planets."

"It's good to know you're both so open-minded, but then again, I guess I'm not really surprised," Revan smiled, looking back over the vast farmland of Dantooine, wind tousling his hair and robes. "A Twi'lek and a Wookie would have to be, to get along on Taris for as long as you did."

He felt Zalbaar move to stand closer to them both, reaching out one hand to place it on Mission's shoulder while placing the other on Revan's.

"We just got lucky," Mission said, smiling up at Zalbaar. "Twice."

"Nah. I'm the lucky one, to have family like you," Revan said with a smile, the feeling of home compounding in his heartbeat, singing through his veins, pulsing through the Force as affection and relief surged through him. "Maybe it's time we both finally caught our big break?"

Mission beamed like the last rays of dying sunlight sinking over the horizon as stars began to twinkle in the sky.

"You know?" She asked. "I think maybe we have."

Together they watched the sun set, and as twilight turned to dusk, and dusk faded into night, Revan realized that maybe he didn't need Bastila to resist after all.


	29. Part Three; Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is actually important stuff for things that are going to happen at the end of the Lehon/Rakata Prime Arc in order to make Bastila's temptation legit tempting for him. It also affects the way he goes into Korriban. 
> 
> Anyway, this is the last update until May. 
> 
> Happy reading!

The Ebon Hawk in the early morning was especially quiet without its crew, many of whom were still in the makeshift camp. He knew Mission and Zaalbar had volunteered to do a run to some of the other nearby farms to see if they had anything to spare for the refugees, and Juhani and Bindo had been drafted to help raise more temporary shelters, their ability in the Force making hard work easier. Canderous and Carth were somewhere out around the edges of the fields, setting traps for Kath Hounds, last he'd heard, though he doubted they'd be back until lunch.

And since Revan had promised to let Carth listen to his conversation with the Jedi Council and the farmer had insisted he take the morning off when he'd spent all night trying to fix up the long range communicator on the Hawk to send a message to Coruscant, that left him with nothing to do until the afternoon.

He was probably intended to sleep, Revan thought with an amused smile, but his soul was too restless, and anyway, he suspected he'd just have nightmares.

Recently he'd been feeling phantom pains through his body, the aching of an electric current that he wasn't really suffering.

The implications, about Bastila and Malak, made him feel sick to his stomach and sleep elusive, at best.

At the moment, T3, who had that morning approached Revan, bumping into his side, beeping something about having been too hasty in his judgments, was now at Revan's side, cheerfully handing him tools as he tried to work on the shorted-out HK. It didn't seem to be a normal shut-down, as Revan had discovered quickly, but a built in feature, some response in his programming to something that had happened in the past seventy-two Galactic Standard Hours.

Revan was frustrated, tossing his head back as he shed the outer layer of his robe, sinking to the ground. He braced himself against the floor with one hand, staring up at his droid, running a hand through his hair and sighing heavily.

T3 rolled over to him, whistling as he looked at the other droid, the sound not really sad as much as it was confused.

"I don't know. But I'm starting to think that whoever built this Droid had a few issues he needed to work out," Revan responded, reaching out with one hand to pat T3's side reassuringly. "We'll figure it out. I have faith in us."

Shifting from side to side on his legs, T3 chirpped excitedly, drawing Revan's attention back to HK just as static charged through the Android's body, causing the hairs on Revan's arms to stand on end. Quietly, Revan stood up, cross his arms over his chest as the Droid's optical sensors flickered on, vocabulator quickly cycling through several ranges before it found the correct one, HK's head slowly rising.

For a moment all was quiet as HK processed here he was, glancing from side to side, resting on T3, and then finally, Revan himself. Immediately, the Droid's demeanor shifted, from one of homicidal indifference to evident excitement.

If Droids could smile, Revan had no doubt HK would be grinning from ear to ear.

"Ecstatic Greeting: Oh, Master, it is so good to see your face with my own sensors again!" Said HK, his joints rattling with uncontained excitement. "It's been so long, and we've both been in an unfortunate state of disrepair!"

Revan blinked staring at HK for a quiet moment before he glanced briefly down at T3, rubbing his hand over his jaw thoughtfully. "You saw me a bit over twenty-four hours ago, HK. You haven't been out that long." He paused, reaching out to place his hand on the Droid's metal shoulder. "What happened?"

HK's head twisted, glancing down at the hand, before the Droid's eyes looked into his. "Regretful Statement: I understand you don't remember, Master. It's not your fault. You see, my assassination protocol was nonfunctional and I had gaps in my memory as part of my functionality."

T3 chripped out a question, HK's attention turning toward the astromech. "Sarcastic Response: Of course! I was intentionally hiding my abilities! It had nothing to do with my Master's brilliant programming failsafe to protect valuable information from his enemies!" HK sighed heavily, his vocabulator vibrating. "Desperate Query: Can't you do something about the astromech, master? He does so grate on my nerves."

"No, I can't do something about T3," Revan said, pulling away from HK, his brow furrowing deeply -- As far as he was concerned, HK had just confessed that Revan himself had constructed the Droid and honestly...

Honestly?

It felt... _Right_.

"So I... **_Me_** ," Revan said, emphasizing the word by pointing at himself, "gave you this failsafe to protect information from my enemies. I... Built an assassin droid. And then that assassin droid ended up back in my possession by some weird twist of the Force." He frowned sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "But why did you remember?"

"Reassuring Explanation: Because, Master, I would only have my full functionality and memories restored once I returned to the possession of my original Master. I suppose when you announced your identity, I sensed it my circuits."

Revan breathed out softly, T3 bumping into his side again, whistling reassuringly. Reaching out, he pressed his hand to the top of the Droid's head, petting him reassuringly as he stared blankly at HK. "How long ago did I make you, HK? I..." He laughed, the sound echoing through the Hawk, still rubbing the back of his neck with his opposite hand. "I would ask why, but that seems self-evident. Why wouldn't an evil warlord want to assassinate his enemies?"

"Gentle Scolding: Evil is such a strong word, Master. I prefer to think of the man you used to be as a practitioner of practical violence." HK paused, his body shifting as he made another sighing noise. "Honest Answer: I cannot remember the exact timeframe, Master, but I would guess that you created me several years ago."

Revan backed up and leaned against the opposite wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Closing his eyes, he tried to force himself to remember something -- _anything_ \-- about HK, but his mind was completely blank, and thinking about it actually made his head throb after awhile.

Growling, Revan sank back toward the ground, leaning his head back against the cool metal and messaging his temples. Taking a few, deep, breaths, Revan tried to think of a question to ask that wouldn't make his head ache and throb.

"So," Revan began after a moment of both HK and T3 staring at him, not certain what to say -- maybe they didn't have the right programming. "So. Tell me about the origin of the word meatbag."

"Fond Reminiscence: Well, Master, once your apprentice asked me my opinion of him, and I informed him of his meatbag status," the Droid relayed proudly, pressing his hand to his chest. "You, as I recall, laughed for minutes on end before reprogramming me to refer to all "organics" as meatbags."

It took a moment, but Revan started laughing, quietly at first, but soon his entire body was shaking, and the sound was making the walls in the room shudder. He felt... ridiculous, laughing at something so inane, something as stupid as the word meatbag, but it made sense that it was Malak, and it made sense that he was the one to have programmed it into HK. All the pieces slid into place, and it was just so... So fitting... So... Funny... So _foolish_...

It was just like something he would do.

"Concerned Statement: Master? Are you having some manner of meatbag mental breakdown?"

Even T3 beeped in concern.

Revan, still laughing, shook his head from side to side. Some of this was probably sleep deprivation, if he were honest, and he would have to sleep eventually, but..

"I'm... I'm fine," he said between gasps, tears streaming down his face. "It just... It makes me happy that Malak... is the original meatbag."

But it was comforting to know that some parts of him hadn't changed.

Neither of the Droids looked particularly convinced that he was okay, but Revan didn't need them to.

He was fine, at least for the moment.

He was _fine_.

The sound of footsteps drew him to his feet, and he wiped his watering eyes with the back of his sleeves, watching as Carth and Canderous reentered the Hawk, both of them looking sullen and angry. Of course, they'd spent all day together, and it's not as if they liked one another, considering they'd fought in the last war, and on opposite sides.

Revan still found it a wonder that the entire crew managed to work together and not kill one another.

"Are you ready to talk to the Council?" Carth asked, not even bothering to greet Revan as Canderous lumbered off toward the common area, glaring at Carth over his shoulder.

"Nice to see you, too, Captain," Revan muttered, sighing, rubbing the back of his neck and frowning sharply. "Thank you for asking how I am and what I spent my day doing after I spent all night rigging a freighter to communicate with the Jedi Council. I appreciate your concern."

Carth stared at him blankly, then slowly arched his eyebrows, saying nothing. For a moment, they stood like that, eyes locked, but Revan looked away.

"Right. All business." He exhaled, turning his attention toward the common area, where Canderous had retreated moments before. "Yes, I'm ready. I've managed to get the long range communicators working again. I'm ready to confront the Council."

"Then let's go. We can't afford to spend much more time here, as noble as helping these people is," Carth said as he stepped past Revan, his expression steely and determined.

For a moment, Revan stared after him, swallowing his anger at Carth, trying to tell himself that the man's reaction was reasonable. Revan was... He had to constantly remind himself that the insistent memories of Deralia and his life there weren't real, that he was really the man who had lead legions of soldiers during the Mandalorian Wars, that he was the men who had betrayed the trust of Carth and the rest of the Republic.

People had a right to hate him, but...

It still hurt.

Because it _hadn't_ been like this before, because Carth _was_ his friend -- past tense.

"Cheerful Request: Do you want me to assassinate the whiny meatbag, Master?" HK asked from his side, staring after Carth with an assault rifle in his hand. "I can end his ceaseless moping with a single shot, if you wish."

"No thanks," Revan said a bit sharply, then snorted, relaxing himself. "I mean, it's not like it would solve the problem. He'd probably just come back to haunt me," he continued lazily. "Besides, I need him."

"Resigned Agreement: I understand, but please let me know if you change your mind, Master."

Revan absent mindedly patted the Droid's shoulder, still dazed, a bit disbelieving that he could have constructed HK, but... Then again...

His life was becoming increasingly more surreal.

Things made sense, they fit together, he could feel their correctness through the Force, but that didn't mean they would always be easy to accept or deal with. No, he suspected more and more he'd have to struggle with his accomplishments versus his self perception as a man who had to struggle and rely on luck to get through life.

Accepting he was Revan was one thing, accepting what being Revan _meant_ was another, he supposed.

Pulling himself from his contemplation, Revan followed after Carth, joining him in the common room, where the holocom waited for him, a bit like a holographic fire pit. Kneeling, he input the coordinates he had managed to pull from Dorak's personal communicator, standing up just as the Jedi Council answered, looking a bit surprised at the intrusion.

An entire room of Jedi, though Revan noticed they had become somewhat diminished because of the "Jedi Civil War", as it had come to be called. How many had been lost to his forces, one way or another, and then to Malak's? He knew that he had converted more Jedi to his cause that he had killed, though he was willing to guess that his methods were more than a bit unsavory.

"Young Padawan Jaylen," Master Vandar began, sitting in the direct center of the congregated Jedi, as a proper Grand Master should. "This is quite a surprise. I'm afraid we weren't expecting any calls."

"The Force is with me, then," Revan said, ignoring the way Canderous snorted from behind him. "It's convenient that I just happened to call when you were already congregated for a meeting. It saves all of us the trouble of me flying to see you all personally."

It was a bit of an idle threat, and they both knew it.

Revan wouldn't forsake the galaxy at its most vulnerable, not when it really needed him, not when Bastila was suffering underneath Malak and all of his friends had lost homes because of the Sith, in one way or another. He wasn't the sort of person who could allow more innocent people to suffer just because he was angry at some old men for erasing his memory, something that could be dealt with when the urgency had passed and Malak had been defeated, though even that task had begun to loom larger on the horizon.

If he thought about it, he was afraid he'd be too paralyzed to act, so he pushed the thoughts from his mind.

The threat was useful only in that it served to show the Jedi how serious he was.

"Padawan Jaylen," Vrook began, his arms crossed over his chest, "the Jedi Council has important business to attend to, and so do you. We don't know how you can afford to call us when there should be things otherwise occupying your time."

"The same way you can abandon entire planets after parts of them were bombed to ashes, Master Vrook," Revan said coldly. "Sometimes you just have to prioritize the current situation over the lives of a few thousand people. But this isn't the first time you've put the Jedi Council before the Galaxy. I'm sure it won't be the last."

His words cowed the Jedi into temporary silence, though Vrook and the tall, pale woman looked angrier than the rest. Many of the others simply looked confused or sad, and in the case of Master Vandar and Master Lestin, regretful.

"Revan," Master Vandar said quietly. "We did not think you would ever come back to us."

"You saw to that, didn't you?" He hissed through his teeth, finding himself angrier than he thought he would be, bracing himself against the terminal as his arms shook, bowing his head and taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. "You thought I couldn't possibly come back to haunt you if you took my identity from me."

"Calm yourself," said Vrook, anger barely constrained within his own voice. "What we did, we did for the sake of the Galaxy. It was necessary. Surely you recognize the value of making necessary sacrifi--"

"Shut up!" Revan slammed his hands against the console, several members of the Jedi Council jumping, Carth growing steelier behind him. "You didn't sacrifice _anything_ , Vrook. I'm the one doing all the suffering. You did something that might cause you some emotional discomfort, ravaged my mind, and told yourselves that you didn't have to try to redeem me the old fashioned way because the end justified the means. Isn't that the same thing I did during the Wars? Isn't that what caused me to Fall in the first place? Quit pretending that what you did was right, Masters. At least give me that courtesy."

His voice cracked on the last word, the Jedi Council stunned into silence, though Revan's body still shook with rage and grief. He'd lost everything -- Even if he was a horrible person and they were horrible memories... He... He couldn't lay down and pretend... Even if he understood why they had done it...

All of this was still their fault.

Everything he was feeling now.

"You are right," said Master Lestin at long last, his voice still and small. "You deserved better, Revan."

Revan looked backed toward the faces of the Council Members, surprised to see shock still written across a few of their faces. It was evident that not everyone gathered had known what Vrook, Vandar, Lestin and Dorak had done to him. They'd have a great deal to talk about when this conversation was over.

"The past cannot be changed," Vrook added coldly, though even he seemed somewhat cowed by Revan's words. "Even if we were wrong, that doesn't change the current situation. You are still the Galaxy's only hope, and shouldn't be wasting time on this call."

Revan wanted to tell him that he had every right to be furious, but he knew a Jedi couldn't possibly understand the concept of just anger. Even Vrook, who surely struggled with his rage, walked the path of suppressing it until it inevitably destroyed him. He couldn't be that way, he couldn't be like the Jedi, and he wouldn't fight a losing battle, so he let it go.

It occurred to him that he wouldn't have done the same as a younger man, and the surreal sensation that he had matured suddenly settled over him.

"I didn't call only to confront you, Masters," Revan said, straightening his back. "I called to report that Bastila has been taken by Malak and to request that you do whatever you can to send support to the people of Dantooine. They're struggling with the effects of Malak's aerial bombardment."

Master Vandar, who had said nothing for awhile, nodded, his green brow furrowed deeply. "This is grave news, Revan. Bastila is yet young, and no so different from how you once were. This is a cause for deepest concern."

"I agree," Revan replied. "But if Malak does... Make her his apprentice, he will send her to confront me. I..." He swallowed, carefully controlling the manifestation of his emotions in front of the Jedi Council, pushing back his desperate worry. "I'll do what I can to save her. You have my word." He paused, the air in the room thick and tense with countless unspoken emotions. "What of the people of Dantooine?"

"We will ask the Republic to send aid," Master Lestin replied. "It is dangerous for the Jedi to leave the fortifications of Coruscant at the moment, but you're correct in thinking that we need to do something to assist them. It is our presence that caused them to suffer."

Revan nodded, grateful for that, at least. "Thank you, Masters. These are good people. I'll tell them to expect Republic aid sometime in the future before I leave for Korriban."

"So you plan to continue with the mission?" Vrook asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

Revan smiled thinly at him, his dark eyes flickering to the projection of Vrook. "I created this problem, Master Vrook. I like to make a habit of cleaning up my own messes. Malak and the Star Forge are my responsibility and I won't see the Galaxy suffer for my mistakes any longer."

Vrook didn't respond, not immediately, his head bowed in contemplation before realization slowly dawned upon his face like the suns breaking the horizon of Tatooine. "You've grown, Revan."

"It's been ten years, Master Vrook," Revan said. "I hope I'm a different person than the young man who went off to fight the Mandalorians. Time changes all things, and that includes me."

Master Vrook looked at him for only a moment longer before sighing and turning away, his eyes shifting towards Master Vandar, who was staring at Revan with a look of deep consideration on his face. Vaguely, Revan wondered if Master Vrook had finally realized that he had been treating Revan like he was the same person he had been when he was in his twenties, but he dismissed that train of thought quickly.

Whether or not Master Vrook realized his own mistake didn't matter, not in the long run.

The Jedi Council's opinion was irrelevant to Revan outside of his own sense of closure and his emotional stability.

"Please be careful, Revan," Master Vandar said at long last, pulling Revan's eyes to him. "The future is clouded and difficult. You will face many challenges on Korriban, I fear. This is not an easy task you bear."

"No," Revan agreed, "it isn't, but I'm fully prepared to deal with the consequences. I'm not expecting easy, but I will succeed."

"May the Force be with you, Revan," Master Vandar replied, bowing his head in acknowledgement.

"May the Force be with us all," Revan said in response, flicking off the holocom before falling backwards onto the bench, listening to the Ebon Hawk hum around him.

For a second, all was quiet, and Revan reveled in it -- in the simple sounds of the Hawk working, the sound of Droids moving about, the sound of his own breathing -- though his silence was quickly shattered by Carth.

"How can you possibly criticize them for what they did to you?" He asked. "They were desperate. We all were. You've done worse in the name of justice and called it good."

"My desperation didn't justify my actions, and either does theirs," Revan said, looking toward Carth, his own voice weary -- he really didn't want to have this argument right now, but if Carth was _insisting_ , he supposed...

"You sacrificed innocent people," Carth objected, clearly getting emotional, clenching his fists into balls at his side. Revan could feel his anger rising, brewing like a storm on the horizon. "The Jedi Council -- "

"Let countless people die rather than confront the Mandalorians and was more than ready to let me sacrifice myself and my morality for them just so they didn't have to intervene and lose any of their "good" Jedi," Revan said. "Don't pretend that you didn't believe in my cause, Carth. I know you did. You've told me you did. Besides, the Jedi are just as guilty as moral relativism as any of us are. Only the Mandalorians were honest from the beginning. They never tried to hide their intentions behind platitudes or speeches. Maybe we could have learned a thing or two from them."

"You already took their battle tactics. Why not something else?" Carth growled.

"Battle tactics you and the rest of the Republic Military accepted and willingly followed! I wasn't destroying civilian targets, Carth!" He sat up straight, glaring at Carth openly. "I, personally, have never destroyed a civilian target! Would I have if necessary?" Revan thought about the recording deep in the Shadowlands and grasped the edge of the bench so hard his knuckles turned white. "Yes, but it never was. Telos wasn't my call, _Captain_. I cut off Malak's jaw for that."

"You should have done more," Carth declared, not bothering to mask any of his fury. "You should have killed Malak for that, and now, because of you --"

"Shut up, _di'kut_ ," growled the deep voice of Canderous from beside Revan. "I'm sick of hearing you talk down to your betters. Why don't you go do something useful, like tell that farmer he'll be able to provide for his people soon? And don't come back until you've grown a spine."

Carth stared at Canderous with open fury in his eyes, but he apparently took Canderous' advice, storming away a second later, his footsteps echoing loudly for a few moments. They thundered in Revan's memories for a moment longer, and he hunched over, rubbing the back of his neck, breathing out slowly.

"You okay, _vod_?"

Revan looked up into Canderous face, arching an eyebrow. "Brother?"

"Why not? You earned that right at Malachor years ago," Canderous shrugged lazily. "Need a drink?"

Revan's lips twitched up into an amused smile, and he stood, rolling his shoulders. Though he was still shaken from his conversation with Carth, getting out and getting his mind off of it might be the best thing for him.

"Yeah," he said, thanking the Force for the straightforward simplicity of Mandalorians. "Yeah, I think I do... _vod_."

Canderous grinned.

* * *

 "Leave it to agrarian people to still have alcohol available for purchase and consumption," Revan said, sitting down at the base of a tree as Canderous leaned against it. "My memories of Deralia may not be real, but I have a feeling they're pretty accurate, and if they're any indication, life on worlds like this is boring enough to warrant it."

Canderous barked a laugh and shook his head, taking a long drink of the ale they'd purchased from an outdoor salesmen not too long ago -- apparently, the farmhands and the wealthier refugees were quite a booming business venture.

"It's not _ne'tra gal_ , but it will do," The Mandalorian said. "Just enough to relax the senses, not to drown them. I've spent enough time mourning the glory days in cantinas around the Galaxy to get drunk out of my mind now, when things are just starting to get exciting again."

Revan laughed. "Right. I bet you're itching for a good fight."

For a moment, it was quiet and Canderous seemed to be struggling with the words. Revan looked up into his face, finding him oddly contemplative looking, his brows furrowed in deep frustration. Patiently, Revan waited for him to find his words, knowing that speech wasn't a Mandalorians preferred method of communication.

"Nothing will ever compare to fighting you," Canderous admitted after a moment, the sun high in the sky above them, fields waving lazily in the breeze. "I accepted that a long time ago. You gave me the best fights I've ever had in my life, and gave our people a chance to test themselves against something truly great. We lost, but we lost with honor. You soundly defeated us. Not all of us can accept that, but I do."

For a moment, he paused, and there was an intake of breath. Revan could see Canderous was smiling, and though it didn't really surprise him to see, it was still an impressive compliment if one understood the way a Mandalorian fought and functioned.

"Fighting for you? Beside you? No matter if I agree with your decisions or not, that's the greatest honor I can imagine." He laughed. "I couldn't believe the Jedi Council could have squandered their greatest warrior, tried to take the spark out of him by twisting him into the shape they wanted him to fit. The idea that the Jedi could beat you so thoroughly into submission made me angrier than I've been in awhile."

Canderous looked toward him again, his steely grey eyes sharp and angry, but filled with pride like Revan had only ever witnessed in the Mandalorian people.

"But you still have that fire. They took your identity, but they couldn't take the essence of who you are. Your fighting spirit is still there."

Revan thought about those words, letting them sink in, rolling them around in his head until they reached his heart, where they lodged themselves. It didn't make him feel overly emotional, not in a way where he wanted to cry, but it did evoke something in him, a sense of pride.

His willpower...

Maybe...

It wasn't what had made him a monster.

It could be a good thing, if put to the right use, if pointed in the right direction.

He only had to learn how to aim it at the right people and employ it for the right causes.

"You're right," Revan told Canderous after a moment of letting the feeling sink in, the sense of identity he felt by thinking of himself as strong-willed and nigh unbreakable, a trait even Karath, in the depths of the Leviathan, had recognized. "I guess the more things change, the more other things stay the same."

He laughed, tipping his head back against the tree trunk, staring up through the interlaced branches, light flitering through the green leaves, turning them yellow. "I never thought I'd be trying to figure myself out in my thirties. Everything feels like self-discovery, thanks to the Jedi. I don't know who I am."

"In a way, I understand," Canderous admitted, sharing his own bitter laugh. "Losing the structure we had during the war, being scattered across the Galaxy? We've lost who we are, too. If anyone understands what it's like to look back and try to understand old actions with a new perspective, it's a Mandalorian." He paused and smiled wryly, looking down at Revan. "You seem the same to me. Different goals, but same man. Same power to bring people together, even people who would otherwise hate each other. You've got to respect that in a leader. Mandalore the Ultimate was like that, too."

Revan thought about Canderous' words, closing his eyes as he listened to the sound of the wind rustling the branches of the trees. An animal called out in the distance, and was answered in short by another, Revan losing himself to the sounds of nature for a moment, letting the sun warm his face.

"Hard to believe," Revan admitted. "I don't... See myself that way, as some incredible orator or someone who inspires other people to charge into battle or die for him."

"That's because that's not who you are," Canderous replied brusquely, snorting. "You're not some incredible paragon who inspires through flowery speech. I wouldn't follow you if you were."

There was a loud crunch and Revan cracked his eyes open and looked up at Canderous, who had his arms crossed over his chest, empty ale canister crushed underneath his heavy boot.

Without looking down at him, Canderous continued to speak. "You don't inspire by talking about how great your ideas are, you inspire by making people feel like you understand them. Hell, you treat me like an equal and there's no reason you should. It's not your ideas, Revan, it's you. It's always been just you."

He sighed as he continued, lifting one hand to his face to run his hand over his stubbled chin. "I've never doubted you believed in what you were doing. I've listened to you talk plenty of times throughout my life, more than that pretty soldier boy," Canderous barked a loud, ugly laugh, "and I can tell you one thing -- You've always believed in what you were doing. It's that that's made you so strong. That's the draw. If you're looking for the big secret, there it is."

Revan's brow furrowed deeply, and he stared at his knees, Canderous' words reluctantly sinking through his skin. They rang with truth, with conviction, no talk about a great leader or hero, just a man whose passion was infectious and whose ideas worked time and time again. A practical, intelligent leader who could convince people to follow him into battle because nothing he'd said ever seemed like pandering.

Revan had been picturing himself as a politician for months, well meaning and eloquent.

He should have been picturing something else.

A fumbling, sincere, general with a commanding voice and a fire in his eyes, who won results for his followers time and time again.

Battle tested.

Tried and true.

Wasn't that how he'd succeeded all this time, on his search for the Star Map? By asking the others to trust him, believing in his own intuition, and proving himself through his actions? Hadn't he inspired them by reaching out to them and understanding their problems?

There was no magic formula.

It was just... Who he was.

The thought seemed boggling, somehow, almost unbelievable, but not quite.

Great men had been winning votes and hearts by lying since the foundation of the Republic.

That was the narrative the Galaxy told in every drama on the holonet about sleazy politicians who used to be naive ideologues.

That was what the Jedi wanted to believe, because they couldn't wrap their minds around the idea of someone who sincerely believed in the Dark Side and relied on it to achieve their goals.

Power corrupted.

But...

"I didn't want power for power's sake," he said to Canderous after a moment. "I wasn't building an army to my own ego or for my own glory. I thought it was necessary. I thought it needed to be done."

Canderous laughed his ugly laugh again, slapping his knee as he shook his head from side to side, the sound echoing across the plains. "Of course not!" He declared in his rough voice, looking down toward Revan again. "I'm not much of a fan of the Republic, so if you want an outside opinion?"

Canderous paused, and Revan nodded.

Looking away again, Canderous smiled harshly, crossing his arms back over his chest. "Everything dies eventually. Nothing is forever. Maybe the Sith are too brutal, but the Republic is holding on too hard to the idea that they're the only good in this Galaxy, just like the Jedi. You spoke that truth, once, and people followed you. No one wants to admit that you had a point -- That the Republic has grown weak from festering and that the only reason it survived us was because you stepped up to save it."

The aging Mandalorian paused, staring at the countryside grim-faced, his dark brows furrowing over his pale eyes. "They don't hate Revan just because he's attacking their homeworlds -- that sort of resistance is normal, even to be expected. They hate Revan because he's provided the Galaxy with an alternative, an alternative that Malak, for all his strength, isn't providing them. It's why so many people are turning on the Sith now. It's because Revan kept them there."

"I can't see the Sith as a good thing," Revan said quietly after another moment of contemplation. "I have no idea what I ever saw in the Sith. I have no idea why I turned to the Dark Side so completely."

"And maybe you'll never know. It doesn't mean you're anything like the Republic or the Jedi, even now," Canderous replied. "If you were, I wouldn't follow you."

Revan sighed heavily and pushed himself to his feet.

Honestly, he was forced to agree with Canderous.

He knew he wasn't anything like the Republic or the Jedi. After Manaan, after learning firsthand what the Jedi had done to him? Revan couldn't say he really identified too strongly with either group any longer. Every positive feeling he'd ever had for the Republic before this moment felt like something someone else had planted in his mind to make him want to preserve the infrastructure that abandoned so many innocent lifeforms in the first place.

Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if they had been planted in his mind.

They weren't the greatest good in this Galaxy -- not even close.

The Republic and Jedi had both grown stagnant and insular, only protecting their own.

All the good in this Galaxy was born of individuals that, for all he could tell, both groups abused to the point of breaking.

People like Bastila and Carth, who had both been torn away from families in one way or another as a result of the war effort that sucked all their time, people bent out of shape for their incredible abilities.

People like Mission and Zalbaar, good hearted and abused by others around them, taken advantage of by people like their brothers, in one way or another.

Even Juhani, whose trial had been cruel enough to make her fall to the Dark Side, or Bindo, who had been betrayed by an order who refused to let him take responsibility for his own mistakes.

The Force wasn't using the Jedi and the Republic anymore.

The Force was using the people too good to abandon a failing system.

"I guess I don't have a choice," Revan said, hand grasping the hilt of his lightsaber for comfort. "The Sith aren't a good alternative. Rather the cancerous hypocrites than the tyrants."  

"I'm with you, _vod_ ," Canderous said, looking over his shoulder. "Better get back to the Hawk before the pretty boy gets mad about not saving the Galaxy fast enough, no matter whose back he breaks in the process."

Revan snorted, and waved Canderous off. "I'm right behind you."

Canderous nodded and walked off, his boot steps fading as Revan closed his eyes and thought, arms crossed over his chest.

It seemed like the Galaxy was determined to destroy its heroes, one way or another and blamed them if they so much as tripped up. He'd done horrible things, he wasn't asking for forgiveness, but...

He wondered, maybe, if at the end of the day he wasn't more like Bastila and Juhani than he realized.

Had the Jedi Council done the same thing to him? Driven him into the ground and provided him with no support as soon as he acted in a way that they didn't approve of? Had he been just as alone, with only a few close friends? Misunderstood and cast aside the moment his actions were no longer sanctioned or convenient?

Master Dorak had seemed to think so.

Revan could only wonder if it was true, even knowing he would never receive a straight answer, and that even if he did, by some miracle, the Jedi and Republic wouldn't take responsibility for their part in his downfall.


	30. Part Four; Chapter Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. 
> 
> It's good to be back.
> 
> I didn't actually get novel two done because my chapters are a lot longer than what I was producing this time last year, but the good news is I got a HUGE chunk of it done and I'm over half way finished in chapter count!
> 
> This story is priority again, though, because I want to get it finished and completely edited by December 31st. Star Wars only turns 40 once, after all. :)

"We're coming in for a landing," Carth said to Revan, who stood at his side, looking down at the glowing red world, growing ever closer. "Funny, I thought they'd demand clearance codes or something."

"Why?" Revan asked him, arching his eyebrows as he glanced briefly towards the other man. "We're landing in Dreshdae in a Freighter, not in the Sith's private hanger. I'm pretty sure they think we have smuggled goods and a contact to meet. It's like any other port Czerka runs... Mercenary, probably with a docking fee."

Carth glowered, but sighed resignedly, a frown tugging at the edges of his lips. "Right, that's one explanation. But doesn't it feel just a bit out of place to you, Commander? Just the slightest bit odd?"

The word 'Commander' bristled along the back of Revan's neck, and he frowned, rubbing at it to make the sensation go away. It was like déjà vu, except worse because he knew it probably actually was attached to a memory or a dozen, and there was nothing he could do to unlock that memory and make sense of his own thoughts.

It's funny, because he didn't even think Carth meant it maliciously, but it somehow managed to get to him more than almost anything else Carth did... Even the angry silence.

"You have a point, Captain," Revan conceded, frowning heavily as they drew towards a series of buildings, growing steadily larger beneath them. "This isn't exactly standard? Maybe they've..."

He trailed off, the mountains on the world's horizon catching and holding his eye.

They weren't too far out from the medium-sized city settlement, all modern and chrome, but he could feel their _power_ even from here, still meters above the ground. Darkness radiated from them, throbbed like a drum beat, but it didn't feel like the Shadowlands, where it had felt writhing and secret, like it had seeped into the soil from somewhere else, like Darkness had been _seeded_ there.

It felt natural here, like a fixture of the landscape, another feature, though one that had been carved to suit the nature of its inhabitants. What it was, he realized, was a monolith to the power of the ancient Sith, who had somehow evolved on this harsh and barren landscape and forced the desert cliffs to yield to their will through Force and might alone. Their dark spirit still lingered here, nurtured by the modern Sith whose academy was carved into those cliff sides like the tombs of old.

And it _terrified_ him.

Not because the throbbing heartbeat he could feel growing steadier as they neared the planet was overwhelming, but...

"They're what, Commander?" Carth asked, bringing their little freighter in for a landing. "Because if there's a docking authority, you have about two minutes left before we're ambushed at the gangplank."

"Maybe they're familiar with the Hawk," Revan said, shaking himself, his fingers itching to grab the controls and get them out of here, certain he'd be fighting of a tension headache before long. "It makes sense, right? This belonged to a gangster, so they might..." He trailed off again, sighing. "Anyway, get your stuff and get ready to leave the ship."

"Leave the ship?" Carth asked, looking at him incredulously.

"Your son is here, right?" Revan asked, arching his eyebrows. "Get your things."

Carth opened and closed his mouth, but before he could respond, Revan turned from the room. For once, he had no intentions of bringing anyone else with him, determined to do this on his own, and not necessarily because he wanted to, either.

No, he was pretty sure it would be a necessity.

Just getting Carth into the Academy was going to be difficult, even if he lied and said that Carth was his trusted servant or a slave (the idea still made Revan's skin crawl underneath his clothing in spite of the sudden heat radiating through the hull of the Ebon Hawk from the outside world). It would be easier if he just posed as a Jedi deserter or a potential hopeful and get his way in by attempting to be a student, especially since he was actually fairly certain he knew where this particular Star Map was...

And there was no way he was getting to it without permission to enter the Valley of the Dark Lords, especially since he refused to kill the students in order to enter. They may be Dark Side Adepts, but...

But it felt like a violation of his own principles to ever think of someone as worth less because of their affiliation to the Dark Sides.

Especially considering his own current... Predicament.

Revan heaved a heavy sigh, still trying to shake off that morning's dream, reaching the common room, only populated by a handful of early risers and the Droids, at the moment. Beneath the ship, the very earth pulsed like a heartbeat, and Revan found himself wondering if Juhani and Bindo both looked so sick because they could feel whatever it was that made the core of this world so very Dark.

"Getting ready to go out there?" Bindo asked him as he passed, the door to the cockpit hissing open in the Hawk's depths. "Good luck." The old man snorted. "It's a storm of Dark Side energy out there, like static on the skin. I can feel it making my hairs stand on end."

Juhani said nothing, but nodded as she glowered, curled up on the bench, her legs tucked to her chest.

"It's out there, Bindo," Revan said. "No matter how much none of us like this, I have to go and get it."

He paused, running his hand along the back of his neck again, thinking about the way lightning felt when it coursed through a body, contorting it -- a feeling he knew well, a feeling he couldn't escape, even in his dreams.

And yet he'd worry more if it stopped.

"Besides, it's not really getting to me in the same way," he shrugged, then reached up and touched the side of his face, next to his eyes, where the ring of yellow around his pupils had grown. "I'm tainted, now. Always will be" He heaved a sigh, an ironic smile touching his lips. "At least it's useful."

Bindo gave him a long, critical look, but followed it up with a resigned sigh, so whatever Revan had said to set off that response, it wasn't worth commenting on.

At least, that was what he assumed.

"Just... Be careful. Sith are brutal," Bindo said, something dark creeping into his expression. "Darker than you remember."

Revan opened his mouth to say he didn't remember anything but realized that was the point. Closing his mouth, he simply nodded, turning his head as Carth entered the room, his pistols strapped to his hips. Revan pressed his lips together and ignored them, figuring he could ask Carth to disarm before they entered the Academy itself... Once Revan found a way to get them in. It wasn't fair to ask him to go unarmed into a den of corrupt businessmen, bounty hunters, smugglers, and off-duty Sith.

Hell, he himself wasn't unarmed.

"You all ready, Captain?" Revan asked, receiving in a curt nod in reply. "Good. Come on, before I lose my nerve."

As he turned away, Juhani caught his sleeve, staring up into his face with an intense expression written across her features. "You are certain you must go alone?" She asked, her voice emphatic, her eyes more so. "That it is absolutely necessary and you are not simply being self-sacrificing?"

Carth snorted at the term, but Revan ignored him, reaching out to cover her hand with the arm she wasn't grabbing, his fingers closing over hers comfortingly. He closed his eyes for half a breath, feeling the Force swirl around him, call to him, pulling him in the direction he needed to go.

Grimly, he nodded, his eyes opening again as he looked down into her face. "Yes," he said. "This is a part of my trial. But don't worry," Revan said with a smile as he pulled away. "I have no intention of not returning."

Too much was at stake and the Galaxy... Needed him to fix this.

To fix his mistakes.

Juhani didn't look reassured, but she did look like she understood. She'd faced her own trials in the grove on Dantooine, he supposed, so if anyone was equipped to understand what he was going in to struggle with...

Revan sighed and pushed the thoughts away, motioning for Carth to follow him from the ship.

He had to act, not think, trust his instincts in this.

It was the only way he was going to survive.

The moment they stepped outside, they were greeted by retina searing light and oppressive heat bombarding them from every angle... As well as the dock authority, a red Twi'lek who gave them a skeptical one over and then laughed and shook his head in amusement.

"I guess Davik couldn't hold onto the thing forever," he said in fluent Huttese. "Not that he matters anymore anyway, seeing as he's pretty damn dead. You must have stole this beauty before the destruction of Taris. Well... It doesn't matter."

The Twi'lek laughed, reaching out to slap a startled looking Carth heartily on the back.

"You own the Hawk, which means you get Davik's old privileges. It's the ship that matters..." the man's yellow-green eyes sparked. "And the goods she's smuggling."

Carth opened his mouth to say something, but Revan cut him off before he could say anything noble... And incredibly stupid."Right. We just dropped off our last shipment and were told to come here to try to hook more business," he grinned, his voice easygoing and conversational. "Know any places in town where we can get some good information or pick up a job?"

"Good question," the Twi'lek said. "Actually, I'd try the cantina the Sith always frequent. Believe it or not, they deal the most in really high paying shipments... All those damn artifacts. High risk," the man admitted, lekku twitching. "But high reward, and since you look like the daring sort..."

Revan laughed, patting the man on the shoulder, reaching into his credit purse, and pressing 100 credits into his hands. "For the information. Thanks, _pateesa_."

The Twi'lek seemed pleased and let them go without another word, Carth following along sullenly at a distance. He didn't bother to speak until they were far enough away that they couldn't be overheard by any of the port authority, walking across the red sand and rock toward a collection of modern looking buildings.

"You always talk over me," Carth said, voice rough with resentment. "Do you think I'm stupid enough not to lie in that situation?"

Revan... Did actually think that, though it wasn't really a matter of intelligence as much as Carth just being a forthright person. He knew Carth was capable of lying, but he wasn't good at it or subtle about it, as Taris had proved.

"Come on, Captain," Revan said, glancing over his shoulder, "we both know that I'm the one good at convincing people to do what I want. It's just easier if I do the talking, especially if I'm going to get you into the Academy to find your son later."

Revan watched as Carth's face turned a bit pale, then flushed with anger. "What makes you think Dustil is with the Sith?" He demanded, and then calmed himself, though it looked like it took a bit of effort. "And don't try to get out of responsibility for your actions. We both know you don't trust me."

"Anymore," Revan replied. "And that's only because you don't trust _me_ , Captain. Remember? Trust goes both ways?"

Carth looked about to say something, but was interrupted by the sounds of pain echoing from behind one of the buildings, sending both men in the direction of the voices at a brisk walk. Whatever their differences, at least they could set them aside to help someone in need, Revan thought.

It was nice to know they still shared _that_ priority, at least.

Moments later, the two of them were watching a young Sith Acolyte, easily identifiable by his grey and red uniform. Various aliens and humans cowered before him, though Revan couldn't sense any immediate desire to run from in them, and there was also an undercurrent of determination that confused him... At least, until he heard the Sith speak.

"You think that's good enough, swine? A real Sith would have given a different answer, a _better_ answer. You acted like that in the Academy, and you wouldn't last one day!" His voice was an arrogant sneer, making Revan bristle as he calmly crossed the remaining distance between them, his shadow falling across the Sith hopefuls.

He was sensed, Revan knew, before the Acolyte ever turned around. The young man stiffened as he approached, slowly turning around to look up into his face, though instead of being cowed by Revan's height as people on past worlds had been, he simply arched an eyebrow and glared up at him with blackening blue eyes. "And what are you supposed to be? Some sort of Wookie reject?"

Revan leaned forward, close enough that the young man could see the yellow around his pupils, his hands clasped together behind his back. "Are you practicing for your Sith Entrance exams?" he asked idly. "Or has the Academy lowered its standards enough that it allows weak minded fools who harm people without purpose into its program?"

The Sith's faced turned ashen, and then flushed with anger, anger Revan could feel vibrating off of him through the Force. For Revan's part, he simply stared back, waiting for the inevitable retaliation, either verbal or physical. "I don't see you wearing the uniform," the man sneered. "If you think you're so worthy, then tell me what to do with these hopeless rejects!"

"Isn't it obvious?" Revan asked, leaning back with a shrug. "Even if they're not fit to join the military or aren't Force Sensitive, they still have a use in the Empire. Send them somewhere else, where the Empire needs labor and they can still get a good wage for their work. They clearly want to help, and causing them physical harm is just going to prove Republic Propaganda about us to be correct."

The young man's mouth opened and closed, his face still flush, though his words seemed to have been robbed from him.

"Besides," Revan continued conversationally, "I think you might find that you run into problems if you keep trying to kill the help. Who's going to serve you then?" He snorted. "Yourself? Sith can't do all the labor in the Empire. We _need_ them." He turned his eyes to the cowering hopefuls, who shrunk from his gaze, clearly just as terrified of him as they were of their assailant.

"What are you looking at?" He asked them, arching his brows high. "I'm giving you a second chance to get the kriff out of here. Or don't you _appreciate_ my mercy?"

His words startled them to action, and they scurried away, back toward the spaceport, he noticed.

Good for them.

At least someone would be able to get out of here.

Revan turned his attention back to the Acolyte once more, the man's fury still openly on his face. "You have no idea who you're playing games with, you low-born cur," he growled, pointing a finger at Revan's chest, who swatted the hand away, narrowing his eyes at the young man dangerously. "What does some spacer scum like you think he's doing, presuming to school someone who has had actual training in the ways of the Sith?"

"Believe me, kiddo," Revan drawled, his hand falling deliberately to his lightsaber, laughing internally at the irony of this situation. "You have absolutely no idea who you're trying to cross right now. I'd retreat to lick your wounded ego before you end up without a tongue to lick it with."

The Sith's face turned pale again as if he finally realized that Revan wasn't joking around with him, that he could, and would follow through on any and all threats he made.

Still, it wasn't enough for him to just tuck tail and run away. He was a _Sith_. His ego alone demanded he get in the last word, but Revan didn't really mind, meeting the young man's eyes coolly, summoning the image Bastila had of him from her memories to boost his performance.

"If you do manage to get into the Academy, scum, watch your back," the Sith hissed as he backed away, "You never know when someone might stab it."

Revan watched him go with steely cold in his gaze, but the moment he was sure the young man was out of earshot, laughing hysterically. He braced himself against the shadowed metal wall, still warm to the touch. Carth, for his part, simply stared at him as if he'd lost his mind, which...

To be fair, Revan wasn't entirely sure he hadn't.

It took him a moment to gain control of himself again, thinking about the look on the Sith's face... About how ridiculously easy this all was... And then drew himself up to his full height.

"Come on, Captain," Revan said. "We have an appointment with some Sith conversations in a Cantina. I'd hate to be late."

Not bothering to listen to any response Carth might give him, Revan made his way through the winding little trading post, making sure to stop and ask for directions along the way.

* * *

The cantina the Sith frequented was not difficult to find, Revan discovered. It was, of course, the nicest of the cantinas, and the largest, filled to the brim with students and instructors alike. It was clean, chrome, and as different as that dingy little cantina on Taris had been as it could be, advertisements for different companies on the wall in bright neon lettering, long pazaak tables lining one side of the place, and a bar where a human woman stood, chatting up her customers.

In spite of the cleanliness of the place, though, Revan found himself sensing malice or fear from almost every corner. It was overpowering enough so that he didn't notice he was being stared at until he was already sitting at a table, nursing a glass of something in his hands.

She was a Twi'lek, one whose blue skin was turning red, presumably from Dark Side corruption, staring at him with green-verging-on-yellow eyes. Her dress was modest, but like a lot of women who frequented cantinas she knew how to hold herself to attract eyes, if she wanted to. Whoever she had been before she was a Sith... That was probably where she'd learned **that** specific skill.

He could feel the Force about her, sensed in her a mastery the boy behind the building up there hadn't possessed, and was certain, suddenly, that she was staring at him because she sensed...

Revan hesitated to think it, pretending his attention was dominated by the glass in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed deeply as he stared into the amber liquid within. It wasn't a thought he really liked all that much, and it made a pit in his stomach if only because of some residual memory of the idea that the Jedi had always used it against him.

If he were being honest, though, she probably sensed his power through the Force.

Motioning toward the bartender, he asked him to give the Twi'lek woman a glass of whatever she asked for on his credit, slammed his drink back, and arched his eyebrows at Carth, who gave him a disgruntled, if questioning, look as he passed.

Might as well indulge her curious intensity, he told himself, walking over to her with his lightsaber in plain view. For her part, a delicate arch of her brow bone was her only response to the show, her eyes scanning him carefully from top to bottom. Revan had the distinct sense that she was sizing him up, trying to see how worthy he was, and though it made him uncomfortable, he swallowed down his trepidation and sat across from her just as the bartender allowed to ask her what she'd like to drink.

"Clever man, bringing me an offering," she said conversationally after she had ordered, her eyes smoldering at him. "There are lesser men who have approached me unprepared and paid with their lives."

Revan had no doubt that it was true.

This woman didn't really seem like the posturing sort.

"I would apologize for approaching you, but I have the impression that Sith don't apologize for anything," he said honestly, meeting her eyes without hesitation or guilt. "Instead, I'll just ask why you were staring at me so intently a moment ago."

"So you noticed," she said, her expression as curious as it was gratified, a smile gracing her lips.

She leaned back, not deigning to answer him quite yet, so Revan waited, watching her watch him like a woman looking over a prize animal that would win her a great sum of money in a show. Absently, she brushed her thumb over her lower lip, her smile widening as she gazed upon him, laughing quietly before finally giving him his answer...

Though only after her drink arrived and she took a sip.

"I can feel your power," she explained. "Your potential. I believe that you have the ability to go far in the Academy, and..." a pause, her face turning momentarily serious, anger radiating through the Force. "I am sick of my Masters having their own pet pupils and ensuring they succeed, in spite of what may be best for the Sith. I would have a pet pupil of my own..." she trailed off, sizing him up, her eyes falling on the lightsaber at his side. "One with the potential to secure _victory_."

The word radiated with meaning, meaning that tugged at the back of Revan's mind, understanding sliding into his stomach and settling there like a permacrete block.

She sought a replacement of the power structures by proving her own strength. Just as Malak had tried to kill him, she wished to kill her own Masters because she believed she was more ideologically pure and better for the academy.

The sentiment was familiar with him, even if he'd never heard it before, familiar enough to know that Darth Revan would have approved of her.

Whether that was a good thing or not... He couldn't really say.

"And I would be your means to an end?" he asked curiously. "I've been around the Galaxy for too long to make a bad deal," Revan mused, smiling bitterly and holding out a finger before she could interrupt him. "Not that I think _this_ is a bad deal, of course. I'm just sick of looking out for everyone but myself. I'd like to make sure we both benefit."

Pride.

He could sense it, intermingled with pleasure, as she took another drink, her lekku twitching.

"Of course," she purred, drawing her finger along the rim of her glass. "You would be rewarded by your success, one of the chosen Sith, who would serve Darth Malak directly as a member of our glorious Empire. You wouldn't be like the Dark Jedi or the Sith Soldiers. You would be something more. An Acolyte or Assassin, a Sorcerer or a Warrior... Someone destined for greater things. If you seek to benefit yourself, that power should be more than enough of a boon."

She took something from a pocket at her side, placing it in the palm of her hand, and Revan looked, genuinely curious.

It was a gold coin, one emblazoned with symbols he found all too familiar. Sith characters, stark and geometric but somehow bleeding onto the surface of the coin, as Aurebesh didn't. Until this moment, he hadn't known he could read the language... But it made sense that he could, though it didn't make the knowledge any less unsettling.

"Strength, power, victory," he muttered, and she looked surprised, yet gratified.

" _They_ teach you the language?" She asked, her eyes falling on his lightsaber once more.

"No," he said. "Call it an extracurricular pursuit. I've always thirsted for knowledge..." A soft exhalation of breath as he realized it was true and a part of him was... Was enamored with the idea of spending hours with old holos, learning all that he could about extinct peoples and lost cultures.

It was a personal revelation, a quiet one, but one that still somehow managed to surprise him.

"And the man with the most knowledge is often the most powerful," Revan continued, pushing the feeling away. "You can defeat an enemy only if you _know_ him."

"I imagine you will be useful in leading the charge against the Jedi," she said, still smiling, though her expression was momentarily more thoughtful. "You must know them quite well."

"I almost wish I didn't," he said, the bitterness in his voice more truthful than he was willing to admit. "What are you offering me?" He asked, nodding his head toward the coin. "Power?"

"The chance at it," she confirmed. "Take this, and you will be permitted entrance to our program at the Academy, where we are training a new generation of Sith. Tell the guards at the gate that Yuthara sent you."

"And the caveat is that I assist you with anything you need?" he asked, arching his eyebrows, his eyes focused on the coin instead of her face.

"With power such as you will wield, I don't imagine that will be a problem," she replied, and he could feel the venom smile on her lips.

Revan recognized this immediately as what it was, and didn't hesitate as he reached out to grasp the coin firmly in his hands, taking it. He was outwardly calm, holding it up to the light, getting a better look at it now that he held it -- His chance to get into the Academy without bloodshed, something the Force had provided him, he was sure.

Still, his heart thundered in his chest in fear and anticipation.

He knew that whatever he found in the Academy, it was based on _his_ teachings, something that terrified him more than he could possibly put into words. The discovery of what he had once believed meant he'd have to delve into his own psyche, something he hadn't liked doing even when he hadn't been aware he was doing it.

But Revan had no choice.

He was beginning to wonder if he ever really had.

"Okay," Revan said, grasping the coin in his hand, feeling its ridges dig into his skin. "You have yourself a deal. No matter what happens now, at least it happens on my _own_ terms..." his voice dropped into deeper registers, and he was shocked to find sincerity in his own words. " _Not_ the Jedi Council's. _Not_ anyone else's."

"You have chosen wisely," she said, voice dripping with her approval, drawing Revan's eyes back to her face. "There is something about you..." she muttered, almost as if to herself. "Something familiar and new all at once. I believe we'll work very well together... Apprentice."

She couldn't possibly know who she had just drafted into her service.

Revan wasn't sure even he knew anymore.

"I'm going to make sure I inform my companion about the situation," Revan said, standing, bowing his head to her in a show of respect. "I may require his services for awhile longer. Thank you for the opportunity, Overseer." His eyes opened, meeting her own, and he swore he saw his own reflection in her yellow-green eyes, determined and cold. "I'll make sure you don't regret it."

She considered him, but said nothing, and he turned away, walking back to Carth...

Who was staring at him like he had lost his mind, and suddenly the full reality of the situation shifted back into place, and Revan felt like he was standing on unstable ground.

He didn't mention it, though, swallowing whatever witty comment could be made about Carth being happy to see him. Instead, he leaned against the counter next to the man, not looking him in the eye, staring at the fine, dark hair on the back of his own knuckles.

"So this is how it's going to work," he began. "You're coming into the Academy with me under the pretenses of being my servant. We find your son, your son leaves, and then I send you away. You come back to the ship, and I stay behind to do what I need to do."

He could feel how angry Carth's eyes were as they bored a hole into one of his shoulders, but he swallowed down the feelings of guilt and cut Carth off before he could object.

"No. Whatever you're going to say about me being susceptible to the Dark Side, I don't want to hear a single kriffing word," he growled, genuine anger pulsing through him, his throat tightening with the first pangs of betrayal. "I'm an adult, _Onasi_. I don't need you or anyone else looming over my shoulder trying to keep me accountable."

Look how well that had worked with Bastila, he thought, his heart tightening more than his throat. They'd tried to make her control him and it had gotten her captured and tortured.

He...

He would do _anything_...

 ** _Almost_** anything to see her safe again.

The thought of losing her wasn't even a thought he could entertain without it affecting him deeply.

"Besides, you're not equipped for dealing with this place," Revan finally said.

"And _you_ are?" Carth asked bitterly.

He laughed at Carth, quietly enough that it only drew the attention of the Rodian sitting next to them at the bar. "More than you," he said. "I know the Force, Captain. Trust me to care more about my mission than I care about revenge."

Carth sighed, seemed to do battle with himself, and then nodded, breathing in a breath that rasped through his teeth. "Fine," he said. "Fine. You're right. You've got experience with this that I don't have just... Be careful. We can't afford to lose you. You have to know that you're... Well." Carth swallowed, and he didn't look happy to be saying it, but he said it anyway. "You're the only hope we've got."

"No pressure," Revan said, irony dripping from his tone as he straightened himself, glad that Carth could admit this much, at least. "Come on. I don't want to waste any more time sitting around this place than we have to."

Revan knew he was the Galaxy's only real hope now, and it terrified him.

So he decided he wouldn't acknowledge it unless it became absolutely necessary.

He hoped it never was, or it might get to him, just like everything _else_ seemed to get to him lately.

They left the Cantina, heading in the direction of the Academy, which Revan understood you could get a speeder to -- if you could pay. Thankfully, they still had plenty of money from their little job on Manaan. Even if Czerka or the Sith were charging out the ears, he could probably afford it... Or show off his new coin and coerce the driver into letting him and Carth ride for free.

He wasn't exactly fond of the idea of using coercion, exactly, of course, but it was just part of the currency of speech here.

If he didn't act the part, especially in the Academy, he'd never convince anyone he really wanted to be Sith.

Revan told himself he wasn't Sith -- of course not, not anymore -- but that he had to do this in order to save Bastila and the Galaxy. This was part of what the Force was asking of him, and he would see it through.

Of course, that didn't mean he could ignore how easy it was for him, the unconscious well of experience in the back of his mind, somewhere in the depths of the memory he didn't have, that he could draw on to be convincing.

Revan wasn't Sith.

But he had been.

And he could tell.

Once more, he found himself being jarred from his thoughts, this time when a group of kids in grey and red almost collided with him. The squawked and chattered like a gaggle of offended monkeylizards, and Revan knew before they even opened their mouths that this was going to be a problem... Especially for the deathly pale, vaguely pretty blonde girl with "Leader Sith" written all over her expression.

"You there," she began, her voice high-pitched and offended. "Why don't you learn to watch where you're going?"

Revan simply stared at her blankly for a moment, then shrugged. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the one taking up an entire street by spreading out like some slug-brained huttspawn, preventing other people from walking around me. But yeah, sure. I'm the one who needs to learn to watch where I'm going."

He took a sick sort of satisfaction out of watching anger bloom red on her face, though she reigned in her response more than the Sith kid earlier had. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood," she said as Carth bristled next to him, like an akk dog about to pounce on someone threatening its handler. "I'll give you a chance to make it up for your impudence."

She pressed a single finger to her lips theatrically, considering her options.

"Tell me a joke. Make me genuinely laugh, and you may pass," she declared imperiously.

Revan didn't bother to ask what the alternative was, half tempted just to fight her, though that would probably prevent him from entering the Academy... Even among the Sith. If her entourage was any indication, she was a popular student here, and he just wanted to keep his head down and not die.

So he supposed he was compelled to tell her a joke them, a joke he knew would be rude and sarcastic... Which he very much doubted she would like.

But then it occurred to him.

Something guaranteed to make all of them laugh.

A grin spread across his face, and Revan shrugged. "Okay," he said, his voice conversational but for the edge of glacial cold to it. "I'm the Dark Lord Revan. Speak to me that way again, and I'll ensure all of you die. Personally and painfully."

It took approximately half a minute for his words to sink in, even to Carth, who looked stricken at his honesty, before the entire group began to laugh.

They were laughing so much that he doubted they could even read into his words to detect sincerity -- or a lack thereof. It was kind of amusing, watching them lose their minds over something that was completely true, something that wasn't funny to him at all, in and of itself, but combined with their hysterical reactions...

Well, jokes were in part funny just because of the delivery, after all.

"That was better than I was expecting," the young woman said once she caught her breath. "Very well. You may pass." She looked at him with icy blue eyes, as if sizing him up. "But I would be wary, if I were you. Not everyone will take kindly to you taking our former Lord's name as a gaff."

With that, the group of them blustered past like a group of jocks at a Courscanti boarding school, gossiping amongst themselves. Revan watched them, a frown on his face, Carth standing stock still by his side, watching their grey uniforms until they disappeared amongst the chrome buildings.

As he watched them go, all he could think was that he had no idea what he'd really gotten himself into at all.

He had a _bad_ feeling about this.


	31. Part Four; Chapter Thirty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get as far in the story this chapter as I maybe wanted to, which leaves next chapter for the Carth Stuff (which I tried to set up as best as I could in this chapter), and maybe Revan making an alliance before he gets out into the Valley of the Dark Lords. 
> 
> I won't be covering anything with the Droids, but I do, in fact, plan to go through stuff with the other three students, so that means Evil Quiz Show and Ajunta Pall. I think the Ajunta Pall thing actually has a lot of interesting implications and could help Revan a lot, believe it or not, so that's why I want to touch on it. 
> 
> Unfortunately (:P), my chapters are a bit longer than they used to be, so it's going to be a few chapters before I get there. 
> 
> I'm sure you're all disappointed.

The Academy loomed like an omen, one that left Revan with the distinct impression that he'd definitely had a hand in the building's construction and design. It was a pyramid, standing against the orange and yellow sky of Korriban, impossible to miss when it was so dark against such a pale backdrop, casting its shadow over the barren landscape, a single monolith that hunched like a guardian at the entrance to the Valley of the Dark Lords.

It was odd, seeing his fingerprint across it, the construction somehow similar to the pronged hilt of his lightsaber, geometric and stark, but somehow elegant, carved into the red cliff sides around it.

He liked the way it looked, imposing, ominous, the sort of building that gave someone the impression his life would be difficult once he entered through its gates.

That he liked it chilled him in spite of the heat of the oppressive sun bearing down on the back of his neck. It was an eerie thing, to see a part of your heart reflected back at you and not like what you saw inside of it.

And it only grew worse as the speeder finally stopped and he and Carth exited, finding themselves standing in its long shadow, bodies littering the walkway toward the building. Disgust filled him, and he tore his eyes away, watching as a gaggle of students gloated over the corpses, his eyes locking with one of the young Sith for just a brief moment.

The young man stared back at him, wispy, slightly curly black hair falling into savage and shocked bluish-grey eyes, lips curling into a sneer. It wasn't long enough for Revan to get more than the vaguest impression of fear, the sense of intimidation as he looked up into Revan's face.

He didn't have time to contemplate it as he walked toward the guards, holding out the coin.

"Overseer Yuthara sent me," he said, watching the dark robed guards exchange looks and nod. "I'm here to begin my training."

"Very well," one said as she stepped aside. "You're free to enter. I assume this man is your..." She waved her hand, "manservant?"

Revan glanced toward Carth, whose face was stony, and then nodded. "Yes. I'll dismiss him once I'm settled in, but for the time being, I still require his services."

"Understood," she said. "Very well, Acolyte, enter. I suggest you speak to Chief Overseer Uthar before... settling in."

Her eyes strayed briefly to Carth as the great stone doors slowly creaked open, a blast of cold air providing reprieve from the incredible heat of the great desert.

The reprieve did not last, however, the hair on his arms standing on end as he grasped his lightsaber's hilt in his hand, his jaw tightening, taking steady steps toward the yawning mouth of the Academy. It felt like static, his feet dragging with each step, some part of him resisting, another part of him drawn together like magnets of opposite polarities, old instinct flaring inside of his chest, nerves lighting up the moment his foot touched the stone of the threshold.

And then, everything that had felt distant, everything he'd been hearing and feeling through the static, suddenly came alive, like elastic snapping back into place.

It was overwhelming.

He felt weak in the sudden wake of the cold lightning that raced up his arms, so weak that he had to ground himself by pressing a hand against the stone etchings on the wall. Power radiated from the dark red stone, power that shivered up his spine and pooled at the back of his neck, where he could feel it settle, making him suddenly aware of the way every stone of the Academy **_sung_** to him.

It was knowledge, solid, real knowledge that felt like an eel twisting in his intestines, like bony, impossibly strong fingers choking the air from him.

**_Home._ **

The word vibrated up his arm and caught in his throat, dark and sweet.

Welcome home, Master, _Master_ , **Master**...

A whisper, gleeful, as each stone slid into place, and any phantom doubt that had existed in the back of his mind was strangled into sobbing submission.

Swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat, Revan forced himself to straighten, only aware as he did so that Carth's hand was on his back, heavy, more real and warm than anything else in the cold building had been for the past few moments.

Confusing, he thought, but real.

"Thanks," he managed, and Carth's hand slowly drew away. "Just... A lot of feelings, for a moment there. Things that aren't quite memories, but..." he rubbed the front of his head. "The impact of them."

His vision cleared as he spoke, and he could see the long hallway ahead of them, lit with actual torches, nothing electronic, but torches burning with real flame. Revan's instinct told him that the coldness came from the Dark Side itself, from something in his intention as he'd ordered brick laid and constructed this tribute...

Not to his own ego, but to the Dark Side itself.

"You sure?" Carth asked, voice low, filled with what Revan hoped was just a bit of concern, though that was probably just wishful thinking. "You look paler than usual."

"It's just... a lot," Revan reiterated. "I... I don't know how to explain it, it just feels like a lot happening at once. Through the Force."

Carth nodded and withdrew his hand as Revan straightened his back, forcing himself to take one step forward and then another, finding that each step grew easier the farther he got into the Academy. Even the hall seemed to shorten, the oppressive coldness around him lifting as the air of the Academy as it seemed to welcome him home, adjusting to what he could handle.

He wasn't really sure if that was a comfort, of if it upset him more.

Together, he and Carth made their way inside, entering into a large, central room which branched off into many hallways, a room filled with Sith. A few of them looked toward them as he entered, their eyes resting specifically on Revan for a long moment, and he realized with a bit of a start that they could likely sense his power.

Yuthara had, and if the students were being groomed, as she had implied, they'd likely had enough extracurricular training outside of the program to be able to reach out with their senses properly.

And even if they hadn't, well...

Revan was starting to realize he was a bit more powerful than he had thought he was.

Standing tall, he looked around, examining the room, realizing that the pillars were grizzly statues of men holding up the ceiling. He swallowed at the grim architectural details, freezing as he felt more ice sliding up his back, turning his head to find a short, broad bald man with intricate facial tattoos staring at him from the center of the room.

Remembering the gate guard's words about Uthar, he straightened his back and walked toward the man, whose lips pressed into a thin, cold smile as he approached.

"A new student, I presume?" he asked when Revan was close enough to hear him over the quiet din of conversation filling the room from multiple vectors "I don't recognize your face. You're a bit... Older than the usual."

Clever, pale yellow-green eyes slid over him, resting briefly on the lightsaber at his hip, ignoring Carth.

"Ah," he said in a calm, polite voice. "That explains the age... And also why you've been allowed admittance. By Yuthara, I assume?" He didn't wait for an answer, crossing his arms behind his back. "Curious," he muttered. "Most curious. You have the air of a man who is certain of what he wants. Good. You will need it to survive here."

"I can only assume you're Chief Overseer Uthar," Revan replied with a slight, respectful incline of his head, scrambling for something to call himself. _Anything_ other than Cassus. "Varen. Varen Jaylen, former Jedi Knight."

"Varen," Uthar said, clearly tasting the word, rolling it over his tongue like it was some kind of fine wine. "Very well, Varen. I will assign you a room and make sure Yuthara understands that you are _her_ responsibility, though of course you will be given access to all our study materials. Will your... manservant be staying with you?" His eyes finally sliding toward Carth.

"For the time being," Revan told him, "not forever. I have to wait a few days to be able to pay him what I owe him and send him on his way."

"Understood," Uthar said, nodding. "I imagine you paid him to fly you here, or some such thing." He waved his hand, then turned his head to one of the young Sith, calling them over. "Acolyte Marlone, take _Acolyte_ Varen to one of the vacant rooms in the sector Overseer Yuthara monitors. Get him settled in and show him how to access the study materials."

Uthar's eyes slid back to Revan's, their eyes met, and for one, horrible moment, he was almost afraid the Chief overseer recognized him as his eyes flashed, but the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

"Good luck, Acolyte. I believe Yuthara has put you at a disadvantage, allowing you into our Academy so close to the end of the term. Come to me when you have studied the Sith Code and understand it sufficiently enough to answer my questions," his pale lips pressed into a thin line. "Then I will grade you and decide if you are fit for access to the Valley of the Dark Lords and the final exam."

"Very well, Chief Overseer," he said, trying not to bristle at the assumption that he'd fail to remember the Code -- the Code he himself uncovered from these very ruins...

The Code he didn't know at all, he realized as the annoyed static faded, replaced again by the twisting, cold eel in his stomach. The eel that reminded him that this place was bringing out things in him that he hadn't known had existed, ugly things, dark things, the parts of him he thought he'd confronted on the Leviathan.

It seemed he was always doomed to be wrong.

Turning away from the older man, Revan followed the Acolyte to a small, uncomfortable room with a small, uncomfortable bed and a nice computer terminal affixed to one of the walls. A computer that the Sith gave him a quick, unfeeling tutorial for and then left the room, eyes narrowed over their shoulder as the heavy door thudded closed in their wake.

Revan sank onto the edge of the bed, thinking about how he should be meditating instead of brooding and staring at the wall, but he couldn't bring himself to think about peace, harmony, _or_ serenity right now.

Gnawing on his lip, he thought about the echoing of his own voice in his head, of the him that was still somewhere deep inside of him. Darth Revan had been silent for awhile, but that didn't mean he was really gone, did it?

He was always with Revan.

Poor, stupid, fragmented Revan, who was trying to tell himself he could force his way through this in spite of suddenly feeling like there was nothing but staggering evidence to the contrary.

"I thought you said you could handle this," came Carth's voice, startling Revan through the confounding oppressiveness of his own thoughts.

The sudden desire to succeed out of spite alone flickered like a small flame in his chest, and Revan took a deep breath. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, letting himself feel the Academy around him, singing, energy pounding like a drum beneath his boots, the living heartbeat of the Dark Side of the Force.

Reaching out, he brushed his senses against it, feeling it respond to him in kind.

To him, it wasn't hostile, which hadn't been quite what he was expecting of the Dark Side of the Force. Rather, it felt restless, **_hungry_** , like it was waiting for something to change, for some shift in paradigm, but he had no impression that it was ready to strike, to rend him in two.

It was only on the silence of his own mind that he quickly came to the realization that it was responding to _him_ , to _his_ emotions, reminding him of how intrinsically different the Dark Side was from the Light. It could make requests of him, but in the end it was almost always a mirror, one that showed him what he was feeling.

What he wanted to see.

The sense of disquiet increased as he realized that _he_ was the one waiting for a shift in paradigm, that the restless hunger belonged to _him_.

It reminded him of how out of touch he'd grown with himself and his own emotions, snapping him out of his meditation, cursing underneath his breath. He fell back on the bed, not caring that Carth was staring at him, staring at the ceiling and the shadows that swam there, so deep that Revan imagined they would threaten to swallow him if he turned the lights of.

It was no wonder he felt disquiet when in a place like this, a place designed to set its every occupant on edge.

"What now?" Carth asked him, his voice followed by the sound of fabric scrapping against stone and a soft thud as Carth surely sat against one of the walls. "How are we going to find Dustil in a place like this... If he's here at all?"

"The Force will provide for you, Carth," Revan replied. "I have faith we'll find your son when we're meant to. For now? I find the strength within myself to look over the Sith Code, which means spending the night here. Think you can manage?"

Carth snorted, which was all the answer Revan was likely to get, he realized as laid on the bed, staring at the yawning darkness that served as a ceiling.

_What's the key to this? To getting by now that I know what I am?_

He asked the depths of his own slithering uncertainty, which reached back toward him from the shadows, like a hand clothed in a black gauntlet.

 _Acceptance_ , it whispered. _We're a part of you, even now._

Revan closed his eyes, ignoring his instincts, rejecting the Darkness just as he'd once rejected the Light.

* * *

 

_Peace is a lie --_

He was in the Starforge.

He knew that's where he was because he could feel its Darkness pulsing around him, so different from that of Korriban, the thrummed of some big-bodied string instrument, boots providing a quick staccato drumbeat against the metal floors.

In front of him, Malak strode a few paces, and Revan knew immediately that the anxiety he was feeling, that the uncertainty he was trying to swallow, didn't belong to him.

This wasn't a memory, this was real, something that was happening, maybe not right now, exactly... But at the least something that happened again and again in dreams, something that repeated in someone's mind, the possibility of release, of a better future, but one fueled by anger and ambition.

_There is only passion._

His own fear mingled with the dawning realization of where he was and what was happening, eyes still focused on Malak's back, feeling him through the Force -- Tempered malice, rage contained by a clever mind, applied toward ambition like a doubled bladed vibroknife, though not always wielded with precision.

Revan knew Malak had always been that way, but Bastila, who walked only a few paces behind Malak, whose dream he was currently sharing, did not know it. She knew only Revan, and for the first time he knew for certain just how she saw him --

Passion with the glacial edge of a brilliant mind, a bright and impossible strength just barely constrained and shackled, though she wasn't certain by what. Goodness, maybe -- and his gut twisted with her resonant thoughts of _weakness_ and _pity_.

It occurred to him in that moment that she probably didn't realize he was here.

 _We're sleeping_ \-- He told himself. _We're sleeping and I need to wake up._

_Through passion, I gain strength..._

Revan stood fast, his will distorting reality, bending the dream _around_ them, Bastila battling him every step of the way as the Starforge melted away, their surroundings swirling and uncertain until they cemented.

Coruscant, speeders racing past, the Senate Building towering over them all, gold dome catching and reflecting the last rays of a dying sun. His last memories of this place were Cass' memories, of a little cantina called the Dealer's Den, frequented by ex-Mandalorian Bounty Hunters and other criminal sorts.

He had the impression that it was still his memory this place was constructed from, though, especially when he looked down and saw himself in an unfamiliar set of robes, a silver ring gleaming in the center of the dark brown cowl-hooded outfit in place of a belt loop. It felt too real not to be a part of who he was...

A part of who he _had_ been, once.

It took him a disoriented moment to realize Bastila was not with him, his heart falling into his stomach, where it beat for a few moments before his thoughts were interrupted by another voice.

A woman's voice, too, at that -- and familiar, though he couldn't quite place it, distracting him from his oncoming panic.

"Your memory is better than you think it is," it said, forcing him to turn around and face the source of the voice -- a diminutive, middle aged woman with dusty-blonde hair and sharp, blue eyes. "Enough to create entire simulations of people and places in your own mind. You always were a clever boy."

"For all the good it does me," he replied with a snort, her face familiar, though he couldn't place it at all. "Which is no good. I don't even know your name."

"You do not need to know my name," she replied, stepping up beside him, and for the first time he noticed the lightsaber hanging from her hip. "We are estranged, you and I, and we will remain so. I doubt the two of us will ever meet again. If you were to remember me, I suspect you would remember the pain more than anything else."

Revan looked away, back toward the milling mass of Coruscant, toward the shining center of the Galaxy. "So we're enemies."

"I did not say that. You simply did something I could not forgive." She paused, and he could sense her displeasure, though he knew she was just a product of his imagination. "I still see you for what you are, even with the pain lingering between us."

She'd said the word "estranged", and an image came to mind of a man with white hair and bright eyes full of hatred fallen at the feet of black and swirling robes as a red lightsaber's hum gnawed at the silence. "I killed someone important to you," he said. "Someone you loved."

"You did, though you later told me it was necessary," she replied. "I understood that it was, in part, his own fault that he had died, but I still could not fully forgive you. We parted ways as a result."

He turned to face her again, her brown hood drawn over her pale eyes as she stared into the distance as he had only a moment before. Her lips were pursed into a line, and she looked truly small and frail beneath her massive robe, though he knew better than to doubt someone who was closely connected to him, even if they were a stranger now.

"You have not _really_ changed, Revan," she told him, his insecurity manifested, confronting him with a woman's voice. "You are still the same man, fury and passion given form, your reasons as good as they always were."

"Reasons?" he asked her. "So I told you them, too, huh? Not just Malak? Malak was my apprentice, though... You're just..." He motioned toward her, his arms quickly falling to his side as he remembered in a flash of white and color -- Moving images of a woman with a green lightsaber, with an awkward, gangly padawan who would grow into a terrifying Sith Lord. "Arren Kae. Master Kae."

"Yes," she said, sounding pleased with him, and against his better judgment he felt a proud little padawan again, complimented by his Master for performing well at a task. "You told me. I do not think you are ready to know, yet, why you would forsake the Jedi and follow the teachings of the Sith, but I can assure you that you were a more nuanced creature than fools like Vrook Lamar would ever believe."

He snorted, but was dissatisfied with the answer.

"I suppose I should thank my subconscious for looking out for me, for giving me only a little bit at a time -- as much as I can handle," he told her, walking toward the landing pad's guard rail, metal skyscrapers turning red as the sun disappeared between them.

"I should," he said, repeating it for his own benefit more than hers, "but I'm not. I want to know, because I don't believe there's a reason good enough to destroy all those lives. I look at what I did, and I only see a monster."

"That is a matter of perspective," she said. "The Republic and the Jedi can judge you evil for waging war, but when you waged war on their behalf, they allowed you to destroy yourself and your armies for their benefit."

Arren Kae paused, the wind rustling her hood, sending errant strands of hair flying every which way. "Are you a monster, Revan, or just a man who did what he deemed was necessary? Perhaps while you are Korriban, you should try to find the answer. Refusing to come to terms with your past will only harm you in the long run."

Anger surged through him, but he fought it down, her hand on his shoulder making him freeze.

"Do not deny yourself," she said, her voice like a portent, ominous and foreboding. "If you deny your own weakness, how can you ever confront it?"

His eyes snapped to her and she drew away, tucking her hands into her long robes as she stared up into his face, small and defiant, gaze cool. "There will come a time when honesty will allow you to make the correct choice. Do not be a fool, Revan, it doesn't suit you."

And with those words, Revan woke in utter darkness.

"Shak," he muttered under his breath, groping for the light he knew was at the side of the table, falling out of bed and onto the hard stone ground with a smack. "Shak, shak, _shak_!"

For a moment he sat there, scraped hands braced against the floor, listening to Carth breath. Even with the noise he was making, the Captain still hadn't stirred, leaving Revan to exhale in relief, reaching up with one stinging hand to rub the back of his neck.

Carefully, though with some difficulty because of his long limbs, he managed to stand up and feel his way toward the door, stepping into the still-lit hallway, his mind reeling.

Around him, the Academy echoed his anxiety, and he debated fighting it away, though quickly gave up.

Instead, he let himself feel small, at a loss, defeated, leaning on the wall, tipping his head back to rest against the cold stone.

For a long time he sat there, barely aware that he had been joined by another presence until a cold hand reached out to touch his shoulder, his body jerking away in response, eyes going wide as he stared at Overseer Yuthara.

She looked back at him, lips pressed together, though her face quickly smoothed into a pleased one.

It was only then that he realized he was grasping the hilt of his lightsaber defensively.

"Are you certain you were a Jedi? You are not very serene," she asked him, motioning for him to follow.

Follow he did, joining her on a small bench in the abandoned dormitory where she sat, poised and deceptively clam. He took his spot beside her, hand loosening its grasp on the hilt of his blade, though he still stroked it for comfort, his brows drawn over his eyes in a deep frown.

"I was a Jedi," he replied, answering her question honestly. "Just not a very good one"

She nodded in understanding, her eyes glancing toward him. "Yes," she said. "I am not sure how much you know about the founder of this Academy, but he was much the same." She smiled, and to his surprise, there was some fondness to it. "I met him only once, when I was a student. He **_radiated_** power, a former Jedi, though you never would have guessed it."

He said nothing, sensing that she had something else to say, his fingers still exploring the divots of his lightsaber's hilt.

"You have met Chief Overseer Uthar," Yuthara said cautiously, her game one of patience and pleasant conversation mixed with subtle poison -- a flatterer, but not a true ally.

He knew that much after reading the Sith Code.

"Pleasant man," Revan drawled in a sarcastic tone. "Threatened me, or... At least, I assume he did. He doesn't seem to like you very much, Overseer Yuthara."

"No, Acolyte Varen," she replied, though he had never introduced himself to her by that name, "he does not."

She was quiet, for a moment, leaning toward him conspiratorially, leaning heavily against his arm. "It is because he suspects me of trying to overthrow him," she said, her voice honeyed. "I promised you power, Acolyte, and power you shall have... If you assist me in my coup. I believe you have potential enough to gain entrance to the final exam, to become the one student permitted to enter the tomb of Naga Sadow..."

The words struck him like a vision of the Star Map, and he knew, knew in that moment beyond a shadow of all doubt, that Naga Sadow's tomb was his destination.

"And once there?" he asked, licking his lips as he tilted his head toward her, catching her eyes. "What will we do, Overseer Yuthara?"

"Kill him, of course," she said. "It will be only the three of us, after all. Together, we will overpower him. I will take his position, and once I have his position..." she reached out for his shoulder again, squeezing it. " _You_ will be rewarded."

Filled with new determination, he smiled with a deep satisfaction, knowing his goal, no longer miring about without purpose. He did better when he had something to occupy his mind, when he had something to focus on he could find solutions, not search for answers to open-ended questions about his own existence.

"You..." he said with a small laugh. "You have a deal. What do we do first?"

"First," she said, grabbing his hand and prying his fingers open, placing something small and round into his hand "you will sneak into Chief Overseer's Uthar's chambers and place this underneath his mattress. It is a poison that will significantly weaken him, if inhaled." She smiled, slyly, looking straight into his eyes. "I trust you not to get caught."

He knew, looking into her face, that it was likely she would betray him.

_Through strength, I gain power._

Sith were ambition and conflict concentrated into a person, and they had no loyalty but to themselves and to their Code. If he was going to be here, he had to expect duplicity, he had to expect violence, and he had to expect everyone else to be looking out for their own best interests.

_Through power, I gain victory._

"I won't get caught," he told her, pulling away, tucking the little glass jar into his robes. "Loosen the cap first?"

She nodded, and he smiled.

"Understood. I'm strong enough to make it through this," he flexed his right hand, looking off into the distance, where he caught the eyes of a young Sith passing them, one with sandy brown-blonde hair and dark blue eyes.

A shiver of recognition passed down his spine, though he'd never seen the boy before in his life.

"You are," Yuthara agreed, drawing her attention back to him as she stood. "Go, my Acolyte, succeed where others have failed. Become the Sith you were meant to be."

Revan watched her go, thinking about the words on the screen, so bright against the black background that they were almost burned into his retinas. He could see them still when he closed his eyes.

He thought not just about what they meant to the Sith in this Academy, but what it might have meant to _him_ , in the not so distant past.

Especially in the wake of his dream, and as much as he didn't want to think about it.

_Through victory, my chains are broken._

Who had he been? Why had he been a Sith?

And why, at the end of the day, should he trust anything the Jedi or Republic said to him about his own past?

They'd already proven they couldn't be trusted.

Just those thoughts, though, made him fear he was walking down the same path again, the path toward this Academy, the path toward the Dark Side.

And that fear itself was a cause for concern.

All of this was a cause for concern.

He didn't know that he'd ever truly feel safe again until he was on the Ebon Hawk and Korriban was far behind him, but even then, he knew the long shadow he'd cast would fall on him for the rest of his life.

Revan could never escape himself, no matter how far he ran, no matter how hard he fought.

Maybe in the end, all he could do was lie down and accept it.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how hard it was to swallow.

_The Force shall free me._


	32. Part Four; Chapter Thirty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long pause. 
> 
> These last months have been something else. I visited family for the first time in a year and then spent the last two weeks mired in a depression because of a horrible event that happened to me around this time last year.
> 
> That being said, this story turns a year old next week Tuesday. 
> 
> I can barely believe it myself. 
> 
> I've come a long way from the person I was when I first wrote about Cassus Jaylen on the Endar Spire, and now here we all are, on Korriban. The story should finish this year. 
> 
> That's weird to think about, isn't it?
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has tuck around this long, and if you could, please leave a comment. It really helps encourage me to write more chapters when I get good feedback.

It was like Taris all over again, in some ways.

Carth wasn't saying a word to him, and this time it wasn't actually because he didn't like Revan, but because the events of the day -- maybe the last week -- had cowed him into uncomfortable and resigned silence. He was struggling, warring with himself, over what had just happened a scant hour ago, over the machinations of the Sith here and the cut-throat climate his son refused to leave.

Oddly enough, Revan empathized with Carth's prodigal more in this situation, though he'd be lying if he said he didn't understand Carth's concern. This dismal and dark Academy riddled with the presence of the Dark Side was no place for a young man barely old enough to start shaving even if Revan was realizing that most of the students here were quite young, even if they weren't quite _Jedi_ young.

The pair of them walked down the hallway together, away from Yuthara and Uthar, away from the game they'd somehow become chess pieces in, toward Overseer Uthar's personal quarters. Their purpose there was dual, of course. Yuthara wanted to poison Uthar with some sort of gas that would slow him down, something Czerka no doubt engineered, while Carth's son, Dustil... Well, he wanted absolute concrete proof the Sith were evil, not just platitudes from his absentee father's lips.

The Sith had given him a home, if nothing else, which was why Revan could see the kid's point of view. A part of him, the giant serpent made of all his emotions, was still connected to the memories he didn't have and filled him with a deep and visceral understanding at the thought.

Never mind, of course, that this meant Dustil was Force Sensitive, that the Jedi would no doubt want him now if they ever found out. There were so few of them left that they couldn't afford to only take the tiniest of children anymore, and might have to resort to picking up the Sith's table scraps just to keep afloat.

No.

Revan got it.

Something told him that once he'd have done almost anything to feel a sense of camaraderie and companionship, the sense of belonging the Jedi had never given him.

Maybe he'd found that before things went to hell, or maybe he'd just missed what had been in front of him the entire time.

Either way, thinking about it now was a hallow pursuit.

Not only did it not help Carth reconcile with Dustil, but it didn't help him hold onto reality, something he desperately needed here. Getting caught in his own thoughts made him vulnerable to the Dark Side, to the teachings of the Sith, something he could scarcely afford this close to getting the last piece of that damn map and finally being done with this galactic scale scavenger hunt.

Maybe he'd finally be able to put all this shit behind him.

Though what that meant now...

He really didn't want to think about.

Taking a breath, Revan held up a hand to stop Carth, motioning with his head toward the yawning hallway behind them. The man stopped, though the look on his face was a confused one.

"Keep watch," he said. "I'm going to pick the lock on this door."

A dataspike could help him get into the lock's mechanism, Revan thought, but there was more than one way to crack a code on a secure lock. Reaching out, Revan placed his gloved hand against the door, staring beyond the space between his fingers, visualizing the individual parts of the mechanism in his mind.

With a breath, he reached out, making the Force solid, molding it into the right shape. It wasn't like this was a blast door he had to cut through or some impossible lock mechanism, just a simple door with a simple lock -

One that clicked open as he drew his hand away, sliding to reveal the rich depths of the Overseer's bedchamber.

"That didn't take long," Carth muttered from a few feet behind Revan, walking closer as quickly and silently as he possibly could, peering into the room with curiosity. "Are we going to get this over with?"

Revan didn't speak, simply nodded, slipping into the room, unsurprised that the Sith Academy didn't have a more extensive security system with cameras. How could apprentices murder others in peace if they were constantly monitored? Furthermore, why would an _Overseer_ want his activities to be known by everyone else?

"Do you know what we're looking for?" Carth asked.

"He's your son," Revan replied, pulling the poison out of the folds of his coat and kneeling by the mattress, inspecting it. "He may have been a small child the last time you saw him, but you have to have some idea of what his personality is like."

He could feel Carth glaring at him from across the room but ignored it.

If Carth didn't like what he was saying, well... Maybe Carth needed to hear it. After all, some of Dustil's complaints had been that Carth was never really there for him, never really there as his _father_.

Revan had never had a parent of any kind, something he knew for a fact even if he couldn't remember it.

If Carth had the chance to make it right...

Well, Revan reminded himself as he laid down on his back and looked at the bottom of the mattress frame itself, it was none of his business anyway. Carth would figure it out or he wouldn't, and even though Revan wanted to help him, sometimes helping someone else meant letting them figure things out on their own.

There was thatching there, on the bottom of the mattress frame, perfect for securing Yuthara's little poison object to. Sliding underneath the bed, Revan attached the objet to the upper left portion of the mattress, not quite next to the wall or the headboard, in a place less likely to get noticed by Uthar.

Pulling away, he sat up, careful to slide far enough away from the bed that he didn't hit his head on the frame as he sat up.

For a moment he sat on the floor, looking at Carth, who was reading something on his datapad, a look of deep concern on his face. Revan watched him, the play of emotions on his face, his grip tightening on the datapad until his knuckles turned white.

Quietly, Revan stood and walked over to him, placing his hand on Carth's shoulder. "Got what you need, Captain?"

The man froze in shock at the contact, and for a moment, Revan was confused at the response until he remembered that he was, in fact, Revan. Carefully, he pulled away, rubbing his hand, Carth's attention once more swallowed up by the datapad.

"He had Dustil's friend shipped off world and killed," Carth said coldly. "His name is mentioned specifically in the report because Uthar thinks he has..." The captain smiled, his voice filled with barely constrained anger that Revan could feel vibrating the air between them. " ** _Potential_**."

"He does," Revan replied. "Your son is powerful in the Force."

Carth shot him a hard look, and Revan held up his hands. "I'm not saying Uthar is justified or right in what he did, just that your son is powerful and has the potential to be a great Force User someday."

His companion exhaled and nodded, relaxing his body -- probably forcibly -- before he looked up into Revan's face. For a second, his expression seemed to war between mistrust and gratitude, though it eventually settled on the later as he reached out a hand and placed it on Revan's arm.

"Yeah," Carth said, sucking in a deep breath. "Yeah. He..." He closed his eyes, patted Revan's arm awkwardly and then pulled away, letting his hand fall to his side.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get out of here."

Revan nodded, letting Carth go first, following him out, listening to the door shut with a soft hiss behind them.

Without thinking too much, Revan started walking back towards the dormitories, his mind wandering now that there was no sort of conversation or goal to distract him. They were dangerously close to Carth leaving, and though Revan had previously been confident in his own abilities, after spending a night here he wasn't quite as sure has he had been before.

Truth be told, as harsh as Carth had become, Revan was really wondering if he needed that right now. It was practical for him to leave, practical for them both, really, but...

Revan was afraid.

And even as he knew his fear might give the Sith a visible weakness to exploit, he couldn't help but feel it. It wasn't even really a fear of them, or a fear of his uncertain future, or any of the other myriad of things he could be afraid of, right up to and including Bastila's likely Fall and Malak himself.

Revan was afraid of _himself_.

Acceptance didn't mean understanding.

He could look at himself in the mirror and know he was Revan all he wanted but that didn't mean he really understood what that meant. So much of who he had been was still an utter mystery to him, a big, nebulous cloud of uncertainty filled with an inner darkness that he could feel peering back at him every time he dwelled on it for too long.

And he'd already discovered this entire Academy served to reflect his innermost desires, his entire nature, staring back at him like he had in his own vision on the Leviathan -- Sickly white skin and staring, yellow eyes with that grin... That damn grin.

He took a breath, trying to center himself, though he quickly found it impossible to do through the fog of his feelings.

Instead, he struggled with them, pushing them down into a deep, dark place.

He'd wrestle with those feelings later, after Carth was long gone.

No matter what he wanted now, this was going to happen simply by virtue of the fact that it was what was best for all of them. Besides, he's the one who had volunteered wasn't he?

In his mind, the Jedi Council scolded him for his overconfidence, and he swallowed it even as he pulled himself from the depths of his own thoughts, facing Dustil, who was already waiting for them where he'd said he would be.

Revan looked him over, dressed in the same uniform Revan himself had been given that morning, black and red with the ever useful gloves and high boots. He looked nervous, pale face washed out even further by his dark hair, as he glanced from side to side, eyes finally settling on his father.

He couldn't help but think how much alike they looked, grim and terrified with the same face shape and the same mouth. Dustil's eyes were different, paler and perhaps a bit softer than his father's, the hope in them not quite extinguished by age and time.

Vaguely, Revan wondered if Carth had ever been that way.

He wondered if _he_ had ever been that way.

"You're back," Dustil said, leaning back against the wall. "I wasn't expecting you to come back, I'll be honest. At least not this soon or without your tail between your legs."

"Yeah, well," Carth said, his face filled with barely constrained emotion, "it wasn't too hard to prove the corruption of the Sith."

He thrust the datapad he was still holding into his son's hands, the young man fumbling as he looked into his father's face questioningly. Carth looked back at him for a moment, their eyes locked in silent communication before Carth looked away, his eyes briefly meeting Revan's, though he made sure to mask his feelings.

"Just read it," he said into the awkward silence. "I think it speaks for itself."

Dustil's pale eyes scanned the datapad, his expressions like a play for his emotions, clearly displaying exactly what he was going through with each successive paragraph. The grief he felt was written into his body language, the rage, the denial, and then the white-knuckled, lip-biting acceptance.

"They were my _family_ ," Dustil said, his voice wavering with the weight of his unshed tears. "And they were just _using_ me?"

Revan empathized, really, he did.

Just... Just...

He sighed and looked away from the family, leaning against one of the walls, staring down into the darkness of the Academy's hallway.

He just empathized in the opposite direction.

" _I'm_ your family, Dustil," Carth said, the sincerity in his voice bleeding through the Force; Revan was sure Dustil could feel it. "I didn't want to leave you. I wanted to come home, to you and to your mother. Even now, I don't want to be out, fighting for my life! I did it before out of a sense of duty, but I'm starting to realize how little that actually _means_ in the long run, especially when you sacrifice so much that you lose yourself in the process."

There was a pause, the room swimming in their shared emotion, shivering with the anticipation between father and son as Carth's eyes stared holes into Revan's shoulder.

"But I have to finish this, Dustil. I have to bring the Jedi Civil War to an end," he said empathically. "You don't have to want to be my son, but... But please just give me a chance to explain things to you, man to man. To give you the closure that you --" Carth cut himself off and took a breath that shuddered with deep emotion. "That we _both_ deserve after all these years."

He could hear Dustil's hesitation, and his hurt when he finally did speak, though Revan didn't stay to listen to the words.

Instead, he walked off down the hallway, finding himself standing in the large center chamber where macabre statues of naked men served as pillars, supporting the ceiling. Revan watched them, staring upward, tracing their faces with his dark eyes, noting the look of resignation there. It wasn't the expression he was really expecting, maybe one of fear or pain instead, but...

But it somehow seemed to fit more than what he was expecting.

For a long time he just stared, careless as to what others might think about him examining the architecture.

Instead, he let it suck him in, thinking about the intent of the designers.

This place really couldn't be that old, no more than five years, by the rise of the Sith Empire and Revan's -- _his_ \-- return to the Republic. So then he'd probably had a hand in it, in the weary resignation on the faces of the men holding up the massive domed ceiling. He puzzled over it, for a moment, at the significance behind the artwork, but only drew a blank.

Just because he'd done something then didn't mean he'd understand it now.

He'd changed.

Turning away, Revan briefly caught the eye of Dustil, who strode past him without a word.

Revan watched him go, sensing finality in his footsteps, a farewell echoing behind him.

He wouldn't be back.

Tension that he hadn't realized he'd been holding vanished from in between his shoulders.

Waiting a moment longer, Revan turned back the way Dustil had come from, finding Carth walking toward him, looking dazed. Not for the first time, they locked eyes, but the hostility and distrust from that morning had all but drained from the captain's expression. Instead, he looked confused... Confused and hopeful, beyond the tired eyes and the shadow of stubble on his jaw.

It was an odd look for him.

Odd, but not bad.

With a pang, Revan looked away, realizing beyond the rush of emotions in his head that he cared what happened to Carth. He hadn't really had time to think about it that much beyond the sense of betrayal and bitterness and the utter rush to save Bastila and the Galaxy, but... Well, they'd been through a lot together, and Carth had shown him more loyalty and understand than he maybe deserved.

There was no point in being bitter over a reasonable reaction, but he couldn't quite bring himself to be completely happy, either.

Some of the victory of this situation was tinged by his regret that things couldn't have been different.

Gripping his hands into fists, he took a deep breath and forced himself to look back into Carth's face, knowing already that the outcome with his son had been a good one. He found Carth staring back at him, his face completely blank of anything but the latent hope still burning in his eyes, the expression of a young man.

For a moment, they just stared, something warring in the depths of Carth's expression before he took a breath, and nodded his head. "I take it I'm dismissed then? You have what you needed from me?"

"Yes. You have my leave," Revan said, returning the nod curtly, turning away, shocked when Carth grabbed his sleeve.

For a moment they sat there, Carth grasping him, a few pairs of curious eyes drawn to them, snorting and looking away when Carth pulled him closer. They had a narrative in their own minds about what was happening, he was sure, though whatever it was didn't matter to him in the moment.

"Make sure you come back from the Valley of the Dark Lords," Carth said in a low voice. "I think you and I have a lot to talk about."

Then he pulled away, walking off after his son, back toward Dreshdae finally leaving Revan completely alone with the Sith and their trials.

* * *

Revan approached the woman who had demanded he tell her a joke with the intent of making a temporary alliance against the other students, hoping that the fact that he had amused her was enough to endear him to her.

He hadn't expected it to actually _work_.

It turned out her name was Lashowe, and she was determined to defeat the others and prove that she could be a superior Sith. She was the newest student, and Yuthara's favorite, according to her. Revan knew that she wasn't quite correct in this assumption, but didn't tell her that she was wrong as the two of them sat together on a balcony overlooking the valley in the upper hallways of the Academy.

She gave him plenty of information about his competition, and in return, he gave her a few pointers on how to properly wield that practice blade of hers... And information on the Jedi, who she seemed incredibly curious about.

He tried not to think about how the pale haired and severe faced young woman might have been a Jedi in another lifetime.

Mekel, the Sith torturing hopefuls at the gate, had been here the longest and survived many challenges by simply outsmarting his opponents, it seemed. He had a reputation for ruthlessness and the manipulation of odds in his favor. He was apparently Uthar's favorite, as Uthar himself didn't exactly favor the direct approach, which according to Lashowe meant he was the most important to eliminate... if the most difficult, because Uthar would take anything that happened to him personally.

Then there was Shardaan, the brute who Revan had confronted harassing hopefuls in Dreshdae. Before he had arrived, he had apparently been the underdog, favored by few of the Overseers, his method direct and brutal. He preferred to take the accomplishments of others students, usually through force or coercion, something Revan made a mental note to be aware of.

"So, the challenge is to go out into that valley and solve the mysteries of the Sith?" he asked Lashowe, looking out into dark valley, light just barely creeping over the horizon, turning it blood red. "I've spent the last few days trying to get adjusted to this new life and haven't really had time to think about my orders."

"You'd better hurry up and get that under control," said Lashowe bluntly. "I say this for your best interest, of course. Not everyone will be as nice as I am. That sort of behavior will get you culled faster than you can say "shyrak".'

He snorted, rubbing the back of his neck, his dark eyes narrowed as he watched the first beams of light begin to flood the valley with red. "Thanks, Lashowe," he said sarcastically. "Now tell me your plan. I'm thinking they're going to open access to the Valley soon."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod, pushing back from the railing.

He could feel her eyes on his back, staring at the space between his shoulder blades. Placing his hand on the railing, Revan tightened his grip, continuing to stare into the Valley, reaching out with his senses, where he was certain he felt the call of Destiny.

"There's a Tukata Mother in the Valley near the tomb of Tulak Hord," Lashowe told him. "She's swallowed a holocron that Chief Overseer Uthar Wynn desires. You will help me retrieve it and I will give you part of the credit for the discovery, though I'm sure you understand that I must take most of it myself."

Her words smacked of the inkling of betrayal and Revan swallowed, turning his fingers to his gloved knuckles, grasping the railing tightly. It seemed like a cosmic waste to him for so many people to throw themselves at success just to die, and somehow found himself hoping against hope that there was a way to save her.

The Dark Side seemed to appeal to his sense of reason, telling him it was her fault if she died trying to end him to take all the credit for herself, and though he knew a part of that was true...

"Well, you're the one who discovered its existence," he said evenly, shrugging. "That's only fair."

"I'm glad you recognize how gracious I'm being," she told him, "But I need your help killing the beast and its pack. I'd be a fool to attempt it alone, and the teachings say a Sith must be as wise as she is powerful."

"Then I'll meet you in the Valley," Revan told her, taking a deep breath. "A good Sith knows when to make alliances, after all."

 _A better Sith knows when not to break them_ , said his own voice, hissing at the back of his consciousness. _And you're a foolish little Sith, aren't you Lashowe?_

Curbing the thought, Revan pushed himself away from the balcony, not bothering to say goodbye as he departed. It wasn't worth it, he thought, trying to still more unwanted thoughts that threatened to bubble to the surface of his consciousness, more than just the buzzing annoyances of Manaan.

He recognize them as the threat they were, and quickly made his way to the retreat of the room he'd been given for his stay here, sitting down on the too-small bed. Crossing his legs underneath him, Revan sat in darkness, letting himself feel the Academy around him, asking himself exactly what was wrong with him in this moment, why he suddenly found himself faced with so much uncertainty when before he'd always been sure of himself and his decisions.

It didn't take that long to find an answer, swimming like a shark just beneath the surface of his conscious thought, a face with yellow eyes and smiling teeth and the absence of the reassuring presence usually just on the edge of his mind.

"Do you really know what it means?" He asked himself aloud, closing his eyes as he reached out to the image, letting it take shape in his mind --

Himself, draped in black and red fabric, burnished armor glinting dimly from some imagined light source. There was no mask this time, no way for Revan to hide from himself, just that pale face, cleanly shaven, on that unnervingly polite smile edged with dangerous teeth and eyes that burned like Tatooine's suns. He paced before Revan, all cold confidence with an unnervingly calm front, like the eye of a storm, his doppleganger's very presence setting him on edge.

 _"Are you choosing to confront me?"_ The image asked effortlessly, though Revan had to supply the words himself. _"And without precious, precocious Bastila to defend you from your own poor inclinations?"_ The apparition clicked his tongue and then laughed, and Revan had never thought his own laughter could be so chilling, deep and booming, echoing through the near perfect darkness of his mind. _"You know what happened to her, don't you, Jaybird?"_

Revan clenched his jaw and tightened his fists, listening to the black leather creak, refusing to back down. He stared the Dark Lord in the face, trying to be fearless, shocked when he opened his mouth to protest only to discover that he couldn't find the strength to say the words --

It was okay, though, because Darth Revan said them for him.

" _She flew the Light Side coop, and now is nestled firmly under Malak's wing. It should have been us, you know_ ," Revan watched as his other's hand fell to the lightsaber at his hip, stroking it with his longer fingers thoughtfully. " _But you could still take her back. You don't like the Sith now, sure, but Malak has already damaged them from what they were. I'm sure some part of you has to recognize that._ "

This time, Revan ground himself and found his words, managing to speak into the void of his own mind. "I know what happened to her," Revan said. "But she's not a piece on a Derjarik board. I can't get her back by outwitting Malak and flipping my alignment. Besides, I know... You have to..." He took a deep breath. "To _care_ about her."

" ** _Care_**?"

Darth Revan laughed again, the sound like the booming thunder that echoed through the ruined valleys of the once lush and dark Malachor V.

" _Oh, please, Jaybird. Don't be so dishonest with yourself. You're not a mild, constrained, person so why pretend to be one? We don't **care** about Bastila_ \--"

The thunder ceased, the flashes of green in Revan's memory leaving along with it.

Both of them stood across from one another, the entire void silent for a single moment before Darth Revan spoke, his voice shockingly soft.

" _We **love** her_."

Revan sucked in a breath through his teeth, the word ringing in his ears.

Immediately, his heart felt heavy, and he felt himself sinking to the ground with the weight of that single word. Just like that, his eyes started to burn, and it occurred to him just how much she'd really given up for him, that it might be his fault that she had Fallen, and he...

He couldn't...

"I can't give up on her," Revan said, lacing his fingers through his hair and tugging, hard enough to hurt his scalp. "I can't let her be alone in the dark."

Revan felt a Dark presence lean over him, and to his momentary surprise it wasn't harsh or sharp but thick and heavy, oddly comforting in its constraint. Jerking his head to the side, Revan found his dark counterpart kneeling beside him, an arm draped carelessly over his shoulder, his yellow eyes somehow burning even brighter, cold breath ghosting across Revan's cheek.

" _Or_ ," he crooned temptingly, reassurance dripping from that single syllable, " _you could join her. You could give in and stop denying your feelings. Look at where it's gotten you, alone, on Korriban, with nothing to defend you from the pain you caused. Neither of us remember what we did, Jaybird, but at least I know that I did it for a reason. You torture yourself over something someone condemns as a crime only because someone says you have to_."

Revan froze, trying to fight the power the words had over him, the appeal of just letting go of his guilt and living with confidence in his decisions.

His grip on his own hair tightened and he curled in on himself, trying to fight off the shaking in his limbs as he gave voice to his own fears, regrets, insecurities, to his rage and his hatred. These most appealing temptations didn't come from outside forces, but from within, the voices deep inside of himself telling him that it would be okay to compromise, just this once.

" _Do you think I chose this path for **fun**_?" Darth Revan asked, his voice still sweet, though it balanced on a razor's edge, ready to tip into an angry abyss. " _Do I ever do **anything** without a reason? You know the answer to that question, Revan! You know why I do it! It's the same reason you do it! It's because I **care** , because the alternative to being a Sith was worse! Why deny it any longer? The Galaxy needs you. Your friends need you. **Bastila** needs you_."

"Your reasons -- **_My reasons_** \-- don't justify millions dead," Revan said, his jaw aching with strain as his tears began to fall freely. "I caused countless people to suffer and you want me to be _proud_ of that?!" His voice rose to a shout, and he felt the dark presence begin to recede. "You want me to go _back_ to that?! I don't know why we did what we did, but feeling justified isn't good enough! There has to be another way. I can't afford..."

Revan swallowed thickly, his volume dropping in an instant, hands falling from the top of his head to hang limply in front of him. All the fight had drained from him, and he felt weak, his limbs no longer able to support his own weight as he finally collapsed onto the ground, legs curled underneath him.

"I can't..." He stuttered, voice hoarse, body shuddering in the sudden cold realization he could feel gripping his heart. "I can't afford to be that single minded anymore. It's my fault. **All** of it, and I have to do what I can to make up for everything that happened."

 _"So you just shoulder the all the blame because they **tell** you to? What about the corner they forced you into? What about their lack of support?"_ Darth Revan asked, his voice coming from someplace behind Revan. _"Denying your emotions isn't healthy, Revan. That's why I'm here -- You know that. I'm everything you pretend you don't feel. Why do you think Jedi Fall?"_

The words hit Revan like a punch to the gut, winding him and robbing him temporarily of the ability to speak. It was then that the laughing started again, deep and rumbling, making the void beneath Revan unstable as the entire world seemed to shake.

" _Come on_!" Darth Revan said, and in an instant, he was in front of Revan, pulling him to his feet, where he held him by the chin. " _Look me in the eyes, Jaybird_ , _and tell me what you see_."

Revan knew it was useless to struggle, staring into his reflection's eyes, still frightening and yellow, but finding something he didn't quite expect to see. Anger was there, certainly, and the cold hatred he had utilized himself against Malak on the Leviathan, but... But...

There was fear, there, too, and regret, the same conflict Revan constantly felt warring inside of himself.

The realization was chilling, chilling and humbling, but instead of robbing him of his words, it seemed to bring back his strength.

"We're the same," Revan said at last, rubbing his jaw as Darth Revan released him.

" _Of course we're the same, you fool_!" Darth Revan hissed, rubbing the palm of his hand as if it had been burned. " _The only difference between us is what we choose to do with the things we feel. You push away your emotions when you feel them, tell them that they have no place inside of you except for when they make you feel good. You deny your own hypocrisy and that of the Jedi and refuse to deal with your jealousy, your fear, your anger_."

Another laugh bubbled up through the Dark Lord's teeth, manic, hysterical, and for the first time Revan saw himself as he really was -- a man, not a monolith. Powerful, formidable in every way, able to shake the Galaxy with his charisma and willpower, a man, perhaps, forced into a position of great influence, but a man nonetheless.

It occurred to him that everyone around him saw Revan as a symbol, so that was how he'd always seen himself, perhaps even before realizing who he was and what that meant.

 _"But I **use** those things_ ," Darth Revan continued. " _I cast the Jedi and that way of living aside because, in the end, all it did was make me miserable. If I'm going to be miserable, at least now it's with a purpose. At least now my rage and fear mean something, and that..."_ he said, pointing a single long finger at Revan. _"That is more than I can say for you, you **coward**."_

For a moment the finger sat, suspended in the air, before it fell to Darth Revan's side, leaving the both of them in utter silence. Still, Revan wasn't sure they needed words, the way his darker half eye's burned with rage and accusation, his last word still echoing with a resonance that Revan could only grasp at until the pieces finally clicked into place after what seemed to be an eternity of silence.

"You're right," he said at last, watching the shock play across Darth Revan's features, realizing that he might have needed that mask for more than the intimidation factor. "I am a coward. I've been trying to live like a Jedi and I'm not one."

Revan took a deep, steadying breath, taking courage from the honesty, drawing strength from his reality and the certainty he suddenly felt, "But I'm not a Sith anymore either. I refuse to deny my emotions, but I won't let myself be ruled by them." He shook his head and clenched his fists at his side, taking a step forward. "Never again. I don't _want_ to be miserable. I don't _want_ to have to give up parts of myself. I want to protect the people I care about and be happy, and I'll find a way to do that."

" _Will you_?" Darth Revan asked, his yellow eyes glinting with sudden amusement. " _I admire your resolve, but I have to wonder if you'll come crawling back. Korriban will test that will of yours, and believe me, even **I** have a breaking point." _

"I don't have to choose to walk the same path I did before," Revan reiterated. "I won't. There has to be something other than the Jedi or the Sith. I've tried both -- neither worked out, and while I won't forget what I did... I don't want to live the penitent life of a Jedi or the tortured life of a Sith. Find someone else to bother."

Darth Revan only smiled as he turned away, his voice snapping across the void, a whisper that rung in Revan's ears long after he'd opened his eyes to find only a few moments had passed since he'd sat on his bed.

_Don't think it will be that easy to escape the call of the Force, Jaybird._

Rubbing his forehead, Revan stood, pushing the thoughts from his mind and finding that he finally had the clarity to be able to concentrate on his task. He didn't think his battle with himself and his own doubt was over, not by a long shot, but simply acknowledging his own struggles and resolving to do something about it brought him a sense of peace that he couldn't remember having in months.

He'd return to the thoughts later, perhaps on the Ebon Hawk, when he had more time and the safety and assurance of friendly allies to guard him in his rest.

For now, Revan returned his attention to the final piece of the Star Map that swam just beneath the surface of his memories, foggy and unclear, its location certain.

He couldn't afford uncertainty on Korriban, not among the Sith, and so he pushed all else but his quest from his mind, focusing on the steps he needed to gain the approval of the Overseers while compromising as few of his beliefs as possible.

It wouldn't be easy, but for the first time since before the Leviathan, Revan felt completely certain of his course of action.

And really, that was all he could ever ask for, wasn't it?


	33. Part Four; Chapter Thirty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things:
> 
> I know technically Tulak Hord should not have a lightsaber, but it's confirmed his contemporary Lord Kallig did so we're just going to assume that Hord and all his contemporaries are weirdos with lightsabers when everyone should have a Sith Warblade. 
> 
> And yes, this chapter is finished only two days after the last one. 
> 
> This is what happens when I don't have writer's block. 
> 
> Keep in mind this entire section is pretty much why this story is flagged for graphic depictions of violence. It's not super gory, but someone does get beheaded, so if that kind of stuff squicks you out, I suggest maybe skipping the second half of this chapter after Jorak Uln finishes asking his last question.

The heat of Korriban was oppressive in a completely different way than Tatooine, Revan found himself thinking as he walked towards the mouth of the Valley of the Dark Lords, trying to curb the sudden excitement he felt at the prospect of discovery.

It was stupid, he knew, but Revan had to admit that the sudden interest he had developed in the Arcane and Ancient beyond what persona the Jedi had programmed into him gave him a sense of satisfaction he had seldom experienced. It was _his_ , this thirst for knowledge, and as a result it was his to own in whatever way he wished, the satisfaction growing when he looked out on the Sith workers there to find them properly excavating the place, not just pillaging the tombs like he had half-expected them to.

Briefly, Revan looked up at the sky, watching the Capital Ships there move sluggishly through the air, the sun staring down at them like a great eye at the top of a tower. For a moment he squinted, wondering at the construction of the ships, something in the back of his mind telling him that it was Rakatan before he turned his attention back to Lashowe, her holocron, and the Valley itself.

_The Star Forge._

Revan wondered what it was as he walked forward, toward the tomb of Tulak Hord, farther into the yawning maw of the Valley. His logic told him it was some sort of factory used for construction the countless Droids and Starships that the Sith Empire had at its disposal, technology far more impressive than that of the Republic, but his instinct...

His instinct told him it was something far more awe-inspiring and dangerous, something that his memory could just not grasp, the information dancing away from him like a mischievous child as soon as he thought he remembered something. It was something that he only now had the time and clarity to realize frustrated him, this constant sensation of having a word or concept on the tip of his tongue only for it to slip away at the last moment.

He knew it was something he was going to have to get used to, that he might even acclimate to it eventually, but for the time being it was nothing but a frustrating annoyance.

No one paid him any mind as he passed, and not for the first time, Revan was grateful that he'd worn that mask as the Dark Lord, and that Malak's attention was turned elsewhere. A part of him really wanted to know what Malak would think if he knew Revan was trying to steal the final piece of the Star Map out from underneath his nose, but he also wasn't stupid enough to jeopardize their entire mission to save the Galaxy to just satisfy the childish part of himself that wanted to taunt his apparent former best friend. Still, it would be something to imagine as they traveled toward the Star Forge itself, the outrage Malak might experience, something Revan sure he would hide with gloating.

For a moment, an image of a different Malak flashed through his mind, skin not so sallow, with a strong, handsome jaw and a sparkle in his blue eyes, but the image was gone just like that.

Revan felt cold and empty in its absence.

Letting the heat of that staring sun into him, Revan pushed the thought away, walking toward a now not-so distant grouping of pillars, under which he could already see the figure of a blonde woman resting. Her bleached hair somehow stood out against the dark red rock of the pillars even more than the black of her uniform, which seemed to blend into their shadows, swallowing her whole.

He told himself it wasn't an omen, just coincidence, but there was no way this was going to end well for her unless she wised up and decided not to betray him.

At the Sith Academy, Revan was quickly realizing that wasn't an option.

He'd spent a lot of time that afternoon while he was eating lunch and clearing his mind from his meditation that morning eavesdropping, listening to the urgent whispers of a dozen or more students all prepared to meet their deaths at any moment. Conduct was penalized just as much as failure here, behavior tantamount to anything else a student could do that might get them penalized, and the penalty here was almost certainly dismemberment or death.  Lashowe couldn't afford to show him mercy, not with Chief Overseer Uthar watching her, which left Revan no option but to defend himself.

The thought left him with a pit in his gut, but if it was kill or be killed here, and the entire weight of the Galaxy was on his shoulders, he would rather end her life than let himself fall if it meant Malak's victory.

It was a sacrifice the Jedi wouldn't be happy he had made, Revan thought, but he couldn't afford to be picky, and he really didn't care about appeasing the Jedi any longer. The part of him that was still punishing himself objected, but Revan pushed it down as he swallowed the bile in his throat.

He could mourn her death later, but for now he'd do what he had to.

In a way  the choice had already been made for him, but he was trapped in a web of his own making, one he could either struggle in and become further entangled, or accept his situation and make the right choices to ensure his freedom. He didn't have time to contemplate whether he deserved it anymore, either; all he could do was accept his lot and move on with his plans, regardless of what anyone thought in the fallout.

"You've finally arrived," Lashowe said as he approached, pushing herself away from the pillar and wiping her gloves off on her tunic. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd changed your mind."

Revan shook his head, looking towards the tomb of Tulak Hord, his eyes scanning the entrance, then darting in between the field of pillars in front of it before they returned to Lashowe.

What had this area been? A pavilion, maybe, to host funerals? Did the Sith celebrate death, or did they deny it? Revan suddenly realized he might have once known the answer to that question and was once again bombarded with the sensation of being an incomplete person.

"I told you I'd help you," he said with a lazy shrug and a smile. "I don't make it a habit to go back on my word. Maybe it's an old habit from the Order..." He looked away from her, back towards the ruined entrance of Tulak Hord's tomb, unable to shake the sudden nagging sensation that something was waiting for him there. "Either way, let's get this over with. I'd like to decrease Mekel and Shardan's chances of victory."

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Lashowe nod, taking something from a pouch hanging on her side. Whatever it was, Revan quickly realized it smelled horrible and was glad when she threw it amongst the pillars, his eyes falling on the object, some sort of festering piece of flesh. Tuk'ata bait, maybe?

He had his answer when, a moment later, four or five large canid-like creatures made their way from the cliff side above Hord's tomb. Even from a distance, Revan could see the way their thick hides glinted midnight black and rust red underneath the light of the afternoon sun. As they came closer to their easy meal, Revan couldn't help but notice how thick and armored their hides were, muscles moving beneath what looked like plate mail.

His hand fell automatically to his lightsaber at his side, thumb hovering over the pressure plate before he even realized Lashowe had loosed a vibroblade from the scabbard on her back. She would have to be ready untrained as she was in the ways of combat, but his reflexes were enhanced by the Force, so while she circled towards the beasts Revan simply waited, standing stock still as they finally stepped into jumping distance.

A moment later, the world was moving by in a blur of red and white as Revan launched himself into the middle of the pack.

Four of the creatures scattered in all directions as he did so, leaping this way and that, one of them heading straight into Lashowe's waiting vibroblade. The last, a larger and vicious looking bull tuk'ata with a blunted snout, met the arc of Revan's violet lightsaber, losing his head in the process.

He had been unable to even scream, but that didn't seem to deter the rest of the pack. If anything, it seemed to spur them on, especially the large and furious looking mother tuk'ata, who lunged at Revan. Her snarling maw and razor sharp teeth dominated his vision for only half an instant before he side-stepped, tossing his blade to his other hand as he stretched out with the Force, throwing her backwards into one of the pillars with a loud crack.

Spinning around, noting Lashowe was still hacking away at her single opponent, Revan turned his attention toward the remaining two tuk'ata, who were circling him like he was a fine meal. Thinking briefly about how he was probably bony and rather unappetizing, Revan grinned, tossing his saber towards the first tuk'ata, the violet blade rotating in mid air, slicing the animal neatly in two.

A moment later there was a loud yelp as Lashowe's beast finally went down and she charged the young tuk'ata on Revan's left just as his saber returned to his hand. It left Revan to turn his attention toward the mother tuk'ata with the holocron in her belly, only now struggling to her feet after her unfortunate impact with the surrounding ruins.

Saber humming loudly in his ears, Revan took one step toward her, then another, watching her body tense and her plates rise in a show of aggression.

He paid it no need, dragging the tip of his saber against the ground as he charged at her, gaining speed and momentum with each step. At the last moment, he flicked his wrist, sending a wave of molten hot sand and shards of glass into the beast's face, listening to her snarl and yelp as he pushed off the ground, hurling himself through the air toward her.

In the next instant, he pulled his saber up, pointing the blade downward, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as it pierced her skull and she died, a whistling whine escaping from between her teeth in way of a death knell.

His saber vanished and he stood above the twitching carcass of the tuk'ata mother, listening to the sounds of Lashowe's exertion as her opponent finally fell to the sands with a heavy thud. The moment it did, he could feel her eyes burning into his back like search lights, as if trying to divine his secrets simply from observing him, still standing with the cylindrical hilt of his saber grasped firmly in his gloved left hand.

Too late he realized she probably hadn't been expecting a combat expert, but someone only a little better than she was, and wondered if he should have toned it down a bit.

As she approached, vibroblade humming in her hand, he began to doubt whether or not it would have mattered if he had when he heard her blade whistle through the air, straight towards his back.

Before her blow hit Revan spun around, lashing out with the Force, watching as the tips of her boots lifted away from the red earth to dangle a good four inches off the ground.

For a moment, he simply stared her in her wide, terrified eyes as she realized she was utterly outmatched. He watched as recognition flashed across her face, sweat beading on her brow that wasn't from the fight or the heat of the Korriban sun, perhaps remembering the joke she'd asked him to tell and his tongue in cheek answer.

"If I let you go right now, Lashowe," he said, saber still in hand, gloved right hand extended before him, holding her suspended in the air, "what will you do? Will you leave the Academy? Will you go back to whatever home you have left and never think of me or the Sith ever again?"

Her vibroblade hit the ground, falling from her fingers, though she balled her hands into fists before he truly had the chance to see her hands tremble. In truth, he already had his answer just by looking at her face, though he wasn't sure if her expression was resignation or denial, at least not until she spoke.

"It was my dream to be Sith," Lashowe said, holding her head high. "Don't offer me mercy... My Lord. At least let me die in the name of the beliefs I gave my life to. At least if you kill me, I know I was defeated by someone _worthy_ , not that worn Shardan or Mekel the coward."

_My Lord._

The words made the heat of the sun feel inconsequential in comparison to the shiver that ran through him, one if he wasn't sure was a thrill of pleasure or the chill of terror.

He wasn't sure he wanted to take the time to self-analyze in order to discover the truth on this one.

With a deep breath, Revan nodded, feeling regret bubble deep within him, but... If she wouldn't go home, if she wouldn't give in, what choice did he have? She'd be failed, and he might, as well, just for showing her mercy.

Her death was possibly the best choice for both of him, and...

And Revan didn't want to deny her the death of her choice.

"Do you want to go down fighting, or have me execute you?" he asked at last, staring into her face, feeling in that moment that he really _was_ Revan, perhaps for the first time since the Leviathan.

"You've already caught me," Lashowe said. "Just let me die with dignity, not flailing pointlessly against someone I could never hope to defeat in a fair fight."

For a moment, Revan simply stared at her, and then nodded, reaching out with the sudden rage and grief that filled him, the Force seeming to boil and swim around him as he snapped her neck with a simple twitch of his fingers.

By the time her corpse hit the sand, tears were already stinging his eyes, regret making every breath he drew searing.

How could he possibly justify what he had just done, even to himself? He knew this was murder, premeditated, and yet it didn't feel like an act of the Dark Side, not completely. It stung him, the emotions still roiling inside of him like the dark and near perpetual clouds in the sky above Malachor V, but...

There was no way he could ever say this was Light, that it had been motivated by goodness and kindness, but it hadn't been done out of cruelty.

It had been done out of a sense of fair play, out of resignation, out of...

He didn't know, perhaps a sense of honor, a desire to let her die in the way of her choosing rather than force a path on her that she didn't want. Should anyone be _forced_ to choose redemption? Be _forced_ to walk a path other than the one they had chosen for themselves?

The question felt especially poignant, given his situation, but even now Revan wasn't sure if he had an answer.

Maybe he never would.

Maybe there wasn't one.

Questioning it felt pointless, so he pushed it from his mind.

Maybe he'd go back and debate with himself later, replay the events in his mind to try and see if there was anything he should have done differently, but for now he had other things to do.

Rubbing his eyes with the back of his sleeve, Revan ignited his saber once more, turning toward the tuk'ata mother's now still carcass. Kneeling down, he sliced her open, making a face at the disgusting scent wafting from her innards -- It wasn't pleasant, but it was probably necessary, he thought, reaching inside until he touched something that didn't feel like guts.

Something solid, metallic, and roughly pyramidal.

A moment later, Revan pulled his hand back, covered completely in violet, red, and green fluids up to the elbow, Sith Holocron grasped firmly in his gloved hand.

Shaking his hand free of the worst bits, Revan reached out to the canteen at his side, glad he was ambidextrous as he washed the artifact and placed it in the pouch at his side.

Now he could turn his attention to other things, like the tomb of Tulak Hord and whatever might be inside of it, waiting for him... Beckoning to him. Revan walked forward, sparing one last glance toward the body of Lashowe, her yellow hair spread across the sand, before he turned away completely to ascend the slope toward the tomb of the once mighty Lord of Hate.

As he grew closer, he could almost feel the tomb pulse and whisper, pulling him inward with promise of power.

Revan shook himself of the sensation, but couldn't quite shake the memory that accompanied it, just a flash of he and Malak ascending this same slope some time ago, eyes burning with greed and desire, ensnared by the Dark Side. Déjà vu rushed over him, a powerful sensation that stilled him just at the entrance to the tomb and helped clear his head just before he took a plunge into the unknown.

This wasn't the sort of place he wanted to go into unprepared and unwary.

In spite of the sensation from the tomb itself, the way it seemed to whisper in a long dead language spoken only by scholars and the faded images inside holocrons, the interior was rather simple. Dark red and black stone, carved with the harshly geometric letters of the Sith language, something Revan was shocked to find himself capable of reading.

He turned away, not wanting to know what it said, instinct telling him that if he was going to find anything of interest, it was going to be towards the north end of the tomb, not the south. Revan moved quietly, quickly, down the corridor, ignoring the fluttering of wings and the skittering noise of nails against ancient stone.

If there were beasts here they were things like shyrak and more tuk'ata, something he had little time for unless they directly attacked him. The creatures in these tombs could be aggressive, certainly, but if he gave them a wide berth and walked with both speed and confidence, they would stick to their shadow stalking, hunting the small creatures that made their entire lives in these ancient burial grounds... And one another.

Eventually, after the corridor curved towards the east, Revan reached a place where the hallway widened and deep trenches were carved into the juncture between wall and floor. He could see faint dark stains left by some ancient corrosive, his senses suddenly setting off alarm bells at the back of his mind.

Head snapping upwards, Revan looked behind him, finding that there was nothing stalking him. Ahead, there was only a door, glowing with faint red lettering, likely lit by the last traces of some long ago sorcerous enchantment Tulak Hord's architects had left here at his behest, a curse for intruders.

It occurred to him then that it could be the curse itself causing his senses to go mad, so Revan reached out toward the wall, placing his hand against it as he stepped into the widened corridor. Nothing happened immediately. Nothing bubbling up from invisible spigots on the floor or falling from hidden sprinklers on the ceiling, so Revan pushed forward, regretting it instantly when his nose finally caught up with his senses and he caught the first whiff of an odd, bitter smell that did not belong in a musty old tomb.

Too late, he covered mouth with his hand, wishing desperately for a rebreather, noticing the way his vision had began to swim and blur on the edges. His hand slipped from the wall, his knees buckling under his own weight as he crumpled to the ground, scattered mind fighting to remember the technique that would let him purge himself of this and hold his breath until it was over.

He failed, and the last thing he was aware of as he slipped into unconsciousness was a pair of heavy black boots attached to a withering frame and the sound of breath rasping steadily through a respirator, thunderous to his ears.

* * *

The first thing Revan knew was that he was attached to some sort of device, the nodes pressed into incisions underneath his skin. He suspected that the area had been surgically numbed, because outside of feeling of something being undeniably there, there was no pain or even the faintest sensation of cold.

He couldn't move his hands, bound in front of him, but was certain he was still in the tomb because other than a hint of the odd, bitter smell from before still on his clothing, and the out of place scent of ozone, Revan could still smell the dust and decay of the ancients.

More than that, though, he could hear the ancient whispers, possibly ghosts trapped within these halls underneath the distinct rasping breath of an injured person, which let Revan know he was hardly the only living person here.

Outside of that, his saber was still somehow at his side, something Revan could hardly believe, given his odd circumstances.

What kind of kidnapper let his prisoner keep a deadly weapon capable of cutting through all but a few kinds of metal?

He had his answer when a voice spoke to him through the darkness behind his closed eyes.

"You can stop pretending to be unconscious now, stranger," it said, sing-song, but somehow brittle, like a piece of ancient flimsi pulled from the sands. "You've been breathing normally for approximately two and a half minutes now. Time to open your eyes."

Revan grit his teeth but did what he was told, lifting his head to find himself staring into the face of an old man, one far too close for comfort. His skin was deeply lined and heavily veined with an age Revan highly suspected was unnatural, and his eyes a sick amber color glaring at Revan through the darkness. Looking down, Revan could see he was wearing the same sort of uniform as Uthar and Yuthara, though it was much grimier, leaving Revan with the impression that he had been living in this tomb for awhile now.

"You're stronger than the other one, you know," the old man said, pulling far enough away that Revan could no longer smell the reek of his breath. "Smarter, too. You, at least, realized before you passed out exactly what was happening. I could see the realization before the light went out in your eyes."

Turning his head to the side slowly, Revan finally saw the limp, barely breathing form of the young man from the Academy gates. Mekel, he recalled. The young man looked awful, his skin grey in a way that had nothing to do with the lighting, suggesting to Revan that he'd been through quite a bit before he'd arrived himself.

Courtesy, he thought as he slowly turned his head back towards their host, of the man in front of him, if the odd machine he could hear humming behind him was any indication.

"So, what is this all about?" Revan asked, looking into the old man's face, watching his eyes light up with excitement at the question. "I take it this isn't a nice tea party in a Sith tomb?"

"Nothing so morbid, I promise you," the man said, spreading his hands. "My name is Jorak Uln, former Chief Overseer of the Sith Academy before I was chased here by that Uthar Wyn and his supporters for my... unconventional methods. You see, my young friend, we are going to play a little game."

Those two words immediately set off warning bells in Revan's head, and he felt his body tense in anticipation of the worst possible scenario.

He wasn't disappointed when Jorak Uln continued his tirade, "It is a game to test your knowledge, of course. I've been a Sith a long time, you see, and I've acquired much knowledge, all of which I've written down... My memoirs, if you will. I will give you these memoirs if you prove worthy."

"And how do I do that?" Revan asked, closing his eyes and bowing his head as he grit his teeth. "Beat your game?"

"Of course, of course! It shouldn't be a problem for you, given the look of hatred in your eyes just a moment ago," he could feel the old Sith grinning at him from ear to ear. "It's quite simple, really. I ask you questions, and if you answer correctly, I shock our poor, slow friend here. If you answer the questions incorrectly or refuse to answer... Well..." The man laughed, a high, keening laugh that sent shivers straight down Revan's spine, images of the interrogation chamber on the Leviathan passing through his mind. "I'm sure you can figure it out. You seem to be such a _smart_ man."

In the instant before Revan could respond, an image of Admiral Karath came to his mind, unbidden, and he recalled once when the man had called him stubborn. Revan was no longer sure of the context, mind still half-clouded from the gas, aware painfully of the nodes in his neck and that he would have no choice but to humor this man, but it was some odd comfort to him.

The idea that he was a stubborn, willful creature gave him strength, especially when he opened his eyes to spare Mekel one last glance before he turned his attention fully to Uln.

There was no way Mekel could survive any more torture, but Revan...

Revan refused to die.

Frankly, after the Leviathan, he knew he'd been through worse than whatever this Dark Side-addled hermit could inflict on him.

"First question," Uln began, picking up something from where it had been lying on collapsed pillar -- a small, metallic something. "You have a superior within the Sith that you like and trust a great deal, and he has placed much trust in you, in return. There comes an opportunity to kill him one day. What do you do?"

Revan grit his teeth, knowing he didn't have much time, and then grinned, looking up into the man's face. "You know, that sort of arrogance is exactly why Exar Kun was betrayed by Qel Droma..."

He felt the electricity course through his body, his entire form tensing as he cried out, vision momentarily going white. It was over before it really began, it seemed, and Revan went limp, panting as he stared at the dirty ground, listening to the sound of Jorak Uln clucking his tongue like a disappointed mother above him.

"Whether that is or isn't true is irrelevant. I asked you a question and I expect an answer," the ancient man chided. "But I wasn't too harsh this time, all things considered, as I realized too late I might not have been the most clear about my instructions... We'll try again."

He took a deep breath, and then continued to drone on in his high-pitched, brittle voice, "You come across a group of humanoids being attacked by vicious monsters. They offer you a reward for your assistance. What do you do?"

Revan steeled himself for more pain as he answered, his eyes flickering toward Mekel once more, "I help them and accept the reward."

"An actual answer this time! Sadly, it's incorrect," Jorak Uln said, flipping the switch on his machine once more, Revan's muscles convulsing as his back arched and he let out another scream of pain. "You'd have nothing but a bunch of weak, sniveling fools trailing after you afterward. Sure, you've gained the reward, but what good does that do you if you're fettered with their weakness?"

The shock subsided as he finished speaking, leaving Revan sore and panting, his hands trembling, though he quickly willed the convulsions from his muscles.

The Force was his ally, he told himself.

The Force was his strength.

He need not fear anything if he relied on it to sustain him.

"Now... Let's see. An easy one, shall we?" Jorak Uln asked, seeming to talk more to himself than to Revan. "You discover a previously unexplored aspect of the Force. Do you share it with the Sith, or do you keep the knowledge to yourself?"

"The Sith has a whole gain if I share it," Revan said, swallowing as the madman flipped the switch once more, tears streaming from Revan's face as his cries echoed through the large crypt.

"And you put yourself at risk in the process! Really, I have faith you'll get these eventually," Jorak muttered as if it himself. "Perhaps if I increase the pain threshold or the duration of the shock? It seems Uthar's tutelage really is as subpar as that little fool Mekel would suggest."

Rage began to burn in Revan's chest, hot and bright, the moment Uln turned off his barbaric machine and he could think again. For a moment, he considered fighting it away, refusing to use it, but quickly dismissed the idea.

Right now, he needed the strength.

Just like he had needed it on the Leviathan when Karath was torturing him.

No matter how much he might regret this later, Revan couldn't bring himself to regret it now as his fists balled together in front of him, his fury reviving him somewhat, helping him stand a little straighter. Silently, he stared Jorak Uln in the eyes, watching the way his eerie irises reflected the light and how he smiled a wicked, yellow-toothed grin into the darkness.

"Ah, I can sense your rage. Well, perhaps it will be of benefit to you for this next question, yes? One of your underlings has made a major mistake that makes you look like a fool, much like poor Mekel and Uthar here. Normally, of course, he's quite competent. Do you give him another chance..." Jorak's eyes left him to look once more at the still incapacitated Mekel curiously, though his attention was back on Revan before it had really left. "Or do you kill him for his foolishness?"

A flash of red in Revan's mind...

Malak's screams turning into gurgles as his jaw fell onto the ground...

"I let him live," Revan said, looking to the ground, the silence deafening until it was filled with more of his own screams.

"Incompetence must be punished. Death is the best way to ensure all weakness is culled from the Sith. Didn't Uthar teach you anything?"

There was a long pause, one that felt like an eternity to Revan, until Jorak finally turned off the machine. "Last question, I'm afraid," the man said, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor. "If you get this one wrong, you're a lost cause and I'm afraid I must kill you both. It's not your fault, you realize, but Uthar must suffer for his foolishness _somehow_."  

Revan said nothing, waiting for the man to throw the final question his way, something tingling at the back of his mind as he did so, a presence... Carefully, he glanced toward Mekel, who had opened his eyes and was looking at Revan, though his body went prone once the mad hermit stopped muttering to himself and turned back around.

"I've got it! Tell me, child, if you were about to die, would you pass on your knowledge to your apprentice, or use the last bit of your power to strike at your enemies?"

Revan wanted to laugh at the question, and realized before he could stop himself that laughter was exactly what was falling from his mouth -- desperate, tired, hurt peals of laughter that filled the room and echoed off the walls. Hadn't he almost died? Hadn't he been brought back? Did a Sith ever really die as long as his memory remained to haunt his enemies and strengthen his allies?

Jorak Uln looked stricken, stricken enough that he didn't notice when Mekel moved, nor did he notice the rock that smashed into his shoulder, sending him to the ground and his keys and device control flying, until he was already crying out in pain.

Without thinking, Revan reached out with the Force, the keys flying into his open hands. It took some maneuvering, but he managed to get the barcode over the proper part of his cuffs, watching as Mekel dodged away from the tip of a glowing, red saber that suddenly cast dark red reflections on the black stone of the crypt floor.

Like a desperate beast, Jorak Uln began to crawl toward Mekel, a snarl on his lips, saber grasped so tightly in his hand that it seemed to be little more than an extension of his arm. Terror was etched into Mekel's face, but he needn't have worried about it because a moment later Revan was standing over the decapitated body of the former Sith Overseer, his lightsaber humming purple fury into the darkness.

Panting, Revan stumbled back, only to find that he'd ripped the nodes free of his own skin when he reached up to touch his neck and brought away a hand covered in stick, red, blood. Supporting himself on the sarcophagus that he couldn't only assume belonged to Tulak Hord, Revan watched as a stunned looking Mekel approached him, reaching out to place a hand on Revan's shoulder.

With a start, Revan felt energy begin to flow into his body, realizing that Mekel was healing him at the same time he realized he had no memory of actually charging Uln.

Had he been so filled with rage?

"That was pretty impressive," Mekel said quietly, looking up into Revan's face with dark eyes. "Correct me, but I don't think we've spoken before. I only saw you at the gate a few days ago for the first time."

"That's right," Revan managed after a moment, his voice shaking with pain, all of his muscles sore, even as Mekel eased the worst of his injuries. "You're exhausted, you shouldn't be doing this, kid."

"On the contrary, I highly suspect you're the only reason I'm alive," Mekel replied, helping Revan to slide to the ground, joining him a moment later, both of their backs pressed up against Hord's final resting place. "You did that to spare me death, didn't you?"

Revan didn't answer immediately, just sitting in the silence, letting the pain wash over him with each involuntary convulsion of his muscles. Eventually, the shaking subsided and he was able to answer, turning his head with great effort to look at Mekel, "Yes, though honestly if you were answering his questions wrong, with or without my reasons, I really suspect you don't belong here anymore than I do."

He watched Mekel's face contort, first in annoyance, then in quiet realization and acceptance, "I realized that some time ago, if I'm being honest. It bothers me to do the sorts of things I do. I... I'm trapped now, aren't I?"

"No, I don't think so," Revan replied, a bit of an ironic smile blooming on his lips. "Just walk out the front gate, bark at the guards that you're going to Dreshdae for a drink, and then never look back."

The words seemed to put a light back in Mekel's eyes, a small spark of hope, something Revan had never expected to see in a place like this, especially not after what had happened with Lashowe. Revan shivered just thinking about her body, still outside in the sands somewhere likely, no matter how much time Revan had passed in this stupid crypt on this monsterous man's game.

"And just never look back?" Mekel asked in a dreamy voice, struggling to his feet, looking back down toward Revan. "What about you? You said yourself you don't belong."

"There's something here I need," Revan said. "I can't leave until I've found it, but I promise you I don't plan to stay here forever."

Mekel looked him over once more and then nodded, as if he understood that whatever Revan was looking for was far beyond him now, "Very well," he said quietly. "Then I wish you all the luck in the Galaxy. You saved my life, after all."

Together, they spared one last look for Jorak Uln's corpse.

"You leave first," Revan said. "I should probably get that memoir off his corpse, first. At the very least I suspect I'll be rewarded for ending him, if his vendetta against Uthar is any indication."

Mekel nodded, "I suspect you will. Goodbye, Master..." The former Sith Acolyte laughed, his eyes dropping to the saber at Revan's side. "Master Jedi, is it?"

"Something like that," Revan said with a small smile. "Now get out of here. You don't want to keep whatever transport you're blowing this joint on waiting, do you?"

Mekel nodded almost imperceptibly, the smallest trace of a smile on his lips, and then he was gone, leaving Revan feeling oddly empty in spite of his apparent accomplishment for the Light Side in turning the young man way from his former path. All he could do was sit against the sarcophagus for awhile longer, feeling sore and hallow, until he could finally force himself to move again.

Slowly he stood, dislodged stones skittering beneath him, echoing through the large crypt, and forced himself towards Jorak Uln's headless body. Kneeling beside the corpse, which would lay here for all eternity, Revan suspected, he searched through the man's grubby robes until he found an old datapad and a stone tablet that looked as though it had come from the ruin itself. A cursory glance at the letters revealed it to be some kind of old inscription in High Sith about a saber of Tulak Hord's hidden deeper within the complex, a last legacy of the Lord of Hate.

Even if Uthar Wyn had no interest in the datapad, he was sure he'd find this of interest.

Tucking both items away in the leather satchel at his side, Revan struggled to his feet once more, shuffling numbly through the tomb, not nearly as aware of the old whispers and the presence of the tomb creatures as he was upon entering. He suspected it was exhaustion from his ordeal, though Revan knew he couldn't return to the Academy until he recovered at least one more artifact for Uthar's appraisal.

At last, he stepped into the Valley of the Dark Lords once more, finding that the sun was beginning its final descent, bathing the already red cliffs in a blood flow of light.

For a moment, Revan simply stood, noticing something he hadn't before, carvings of men who seemed to hold the walls of the valley itself aloft, expressions of pain etched into their ancient faces. The craftsmanship was perfect, the resignation there that of a slave who had accepted that it was his lot to ever serve his glorious Sith Masters until they finally ran him ragged and he died of exhaustion or exposure.

They reminded him of the pillars in his own Academy, except...

Except the expressions were different, except Revan's burdened men weren't slaves, but willing workers who knew their place in the chain of command.

It was a wave of irony then, that hit him, leaving him awash in his own emotions --

Revan, the optimistic Sith Lord, Revan, motivated by things that Exar Kun and Ulic Qel-Droma never had been. Revan, brutal but efficient, Revan, burdened with mercy and a desire to do something greater for the Galaxy than just conquer it.

He remembered what Karath had said, about Revan's reasons, something Revan himself hadn't cared about at the time... Not as Cass.

But now?

Standing here?

Realizing for the first time that he really might have been different than other Sith? Equally evil, perhaps, but a different kind of evil? A more practical, fair-minded, discerning sort of evil?

Revan wanted to know what his reasons were, more than anything, so he could judge himself as he deserved to be judged. Not by the Jedi or the Sith or even the Republic, but by himself, so he could understand his own actions, so he knew what he had to feel guilty for and what he didn't.

And for the first time, through the confusion of his brain and the fog of his memories, Revan found himself wishing he really could remember everything on his own.

For the first time, it hurt him in a deeply personal way to realize he never would.

Turning his eyes away from the Valley's silent laborers, Revan looked out and across the valley itself toward the yawning mouth of Ajunta Pall's tomb feeling the same certainty he had about Tulak Hord's only hours before.

If he couldn't recover what he'd lost, if he'd never know why he'd acted the way he had, he might as well move forward with his plans.

Revan would find a way to make it through this, and no one, not the Jedi or the Sith -- not even his own insecurities -- would stop him.


	34. Part Four; Chapter Thirty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My chapters are so short!" I say as I continue to write 6 k + word chapters, feeling bad for not being able to write 7 k or 8 k chapters. 
> 
> Enjoy, because this is the end of the Korriban arc. 
> 
> May it rest in pieces.

 Ajunta Pall's tomb was quieter than Hord's, but that in and of itself was oddly worrying to Revan.

He had grown used to the restless nature of the valley itself, to the quiet Sith Historians milling about their carefully laid out dig sites while largely ignoring the tombs themselves, likely for fear of death and dismemberment. Sith Spirits were angry things, beings that rattled chains and screamed into the dead of the night with all the rage they didn't get to express in life, just as tyrannical and petulant as they had once been.

At least, that's what the stories said.

The Tomb of Ajunta Pall was proving to be very different, nearly silent except for the sounds of animals both great and small within and the sound of Revan dragging one of his legs as he favored it slightly. That alone left him with the desperate hope that he didn't have to fight anything here in the darkness, something he could scarcely afford after the quiz show of death in Hord's tomb, the events of which he kept replaying in his head.

Mekel was _alive_ as Lashowe wasn't, alive and escaped from this planet, Force willing.

That left only Shardan to contend with, the likes of who he had seen hide nor hair of, leaving Revan to contemplate whether answering wrong to save someone's life when he was certain he knew the answers really made him that morally correct after all. It was like Lashow in reverse, leaving him with the distinct impression that he hadn't been completely wrong or right, something he wasn't really sure how to deal with.

It left him questioning why he even cared in the first place, why he was still holding onto the Jedi persona at all when he so clearly wasn't anything like the Jedi wanted, but his mind just couldn't stop playing their condemnation like a broken holorecording. Maybe it was because it was the last shred of evidence he had that he was good? Or maybe it was because he couldn't let go of a way of thinking engrained so deeply into him that he couldn't separate it from his subconscious?

Making his way through the tomb of half-solved traps toward the crypt itself, Revan wondered if he would have to confront himself again... If this was something he would have to do every day for the rest of his life lest his own uncertainty claim him.

He was supposed to be confident in himself and his actions, but lately it seemed he only fumbled around uselessly, searching for the answers to the questions that plagued him instead of doing the job he'd set out to do.

The thought stilled him and he placed his hand on the side of the wall, feeling his muscles still throb -- the result of Jorak Uln's machinations.

Here he was, so close to the end, and he was doubting himself.

In the end, did what he feel really matter? Or was it just a distraction, something to occupy his mind and cloud his judgment, preventing him from doing what had to be done? There was no moment of truth, no logic to all of this at all, just Revan alone with his thoughts, no Bastila to guide him.

He could always ask Jolee or Juhani, he supposed, but...

But, Revan realized with a bit of a start, he didn't _trust_ him like he trusted Bastila.

And now she was gone out of his reach, gone and Fallen to the Dark Side, something he still couldn't quite bring his mind to accept in spite of knowing beyond a shadow of any doubt that it was true.

Bastila...

His chest ached just thinking about her, felt hallow, like a part of himself was missing --

No, not like a part of himself was missing -- it _was_.

It was gone, and she had taken it, and he had spent so long trying to distract himself with Carth's drama or Sith Acolytes or the quest for the Star Map that his fear and worry for her had been pushed off to the realm of his dreams. That never should have happened, he never should have let it happen, but he had been in denial, hadn't he?

Like he had been about so many things for so long, living in a state where he refused to accept what he knew was true about himself deep down.

And Bastila had paid for it, hadn't she?

There was no excuse, but Revan wasn't making them anymore.

Balling his hand into a fist, listening to the sound of the leather glove creaking as it stretched over his joints, he finally let his pain and desperate need for her to be safe wash over him. He missed her, and he would do anything to win her back, to bring her back to the light...

Not because he selfishly wanted to keep her by his side, but because she deserved that much.

He didn't want her to wallow in the uncertainty of the Dark Side, not when he himself was so close to Falling again, or at least it seemed to him. She deserved better than this, deserved better than tombs and darkness and the constant oppression of not knowing whether or not you were doing the right thing.

Maybe she was enjoying the freedom now, no longer under the scrutinous eye of the Jedi Order, but that wouldn't last forever.

There would come a day she'd look at everything she'd done and regret it.

He knew.

After all, that's where he was now, at a point where he couldn't even make difficult decisions without doubting whether or not they were the right ones.

It was then that the oddest thing happened, something Revan had never experienced before, his conflict falling away not because of meditation... But because of the thought of _Bastila_. His sudden resolve filled him with a sense of peace he hadn't felt in his working memory and a sense of certainty he hadn't felt since Tatooine, facing down that Krayt Dragon.

The tired doubt deep in his bones was replaced with the knowledge that he'd done the best with the tools he had available. His uncertainty in regards to the future was gone, his willfulness revived as his body relaxed and he pushed himself away from the wall, _feeling_ the strength of the Force return to him, _feeling_ it fill his limbs and flow through him as he hadn't in what felt like years.

A whisper in the back of his mind told him it was love and quietly, without fanfare, he finally accepted it for what it was.

If he wanted to find her again, he had to do this, had to focus his mind and push away the doubt. They were things that didn't matter, in the end, any more than it mattered if she ever returned his feelings because reciprocation mattered little in the face of whatever she was facing right now.

Pushing away other thoughts, Revan was finally able to focus his mind and return it to the important task at hand. There was something here that had called to him, something he was meant to find or do, something that might please Uthar Wyn and help secure his place as the student to take the trial in Naga Sadow's tomb.

With little effort Revan disabled the mechanism to the crypt door, almost as if he had done it before, finding himself suddenly alone in a yawning room not too different from where he had faced down Jorak Uln. If anything, it was more ornate, at least for the massive display hanging on the far wall where three different blades hung in a place of honor, looking down on the sarcophagus itself as if guarding it.

Hesitantly, Revan took a step into the room, and then another, his head snapping around as he heard the door begin to grate shut and then click behind him.

Quickly, he walked back over to the door, examining it for any sign of a mechanism on this side, discovering it to be nothing more than a flat, stone slab.

Anger shot through him like lightning between clouds and he pounded his fists against the door but quickly stilled his own heart rate by taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He told himself no, reminded himself that he was here for a purpose, and that there was peace and meaning in that purpose.

There had to be a way to get out if there was a way to get in.

Revan just had to find it.

"Interesting," muttered a voice from over Revan's ear just at that moment, accompanied by a ghostly cold fog that settled over his shoulders like a shroud. "He doesn't panic. Instead, he grounds himself in his purpose and continues to search for a solution. Different from the others, and there have been... _so_ many others."

Revan glanced to his left and to his right to find that the voice was right -- there were corpses here, though most of them looked fairly old, as if they had been here for decades over even centuries. Taking a breath, realizing that he must succeed where countless others had failed, Revan stood up and turned around as slowly as he could manage, finding himself practically nose to nose with an apparition.

Coldness struck him then, coldness and a deep and abiding loneliness and regret, leaving Revan stunned that he had failed to notice it before now. The entire room seemed to drip with it, as if an extension of the spirit's emotions, a man draped in the robes of the Sith, a human with eyes that burned somehow, even in death.

_Ajunta Pall._

It had to be, Revan realized, trying to stop his mouth from hanging open slightly as he realized unequivocally that he must be faced with the very first man to _define_ the Order of the Sith.

"He is human," the spirit muttered, as if not yet fully realizing Revan could hear him. "And a Jedi? Yes, a Jedi." Suddenly, his attention seemed to focus, and Revan felt the full force of those glowing white eyes on him, barely able to discern the features around them, blue and faded, seeming to shift between the decay of the tomb and vitality of life more quickly than his mind could process. "Why have you come here, Jedi? Why do you disturb my sleepless rest?"

Revan hesitated, then shook his head slowly from side to side. "I'm not a Jedi, at least... Not a good one."

The ancient Sith looked amused at his statement, drifting slowly around him, leaving Revan with the impression that the spirit could sense more of him than he could ever hope to sense of the spirit. It left him at a distinct disadvantage, but that wasn't surprising, especially for a Sith stuck here.

Revan didn't have to wonder why, knowing exactly the sort of pain and uncertainty the spirit was feeling, and not just from the way he affected the room itself.

He sucked in a deep breath as Ajunta Pall settled and then spoke to Revan once more, "Are you certain? The Force is with you... So strong... Strong and bright. It reminds me of someone I knew... Long ago..."

The spirit trailed off, and for a moment Revan had the distinct impression that he was centuries away, somewhere before the Great Schism, when he himself had still been a Jedi. Before there was the Dark that had resulted in the creation of the Sith, in the endless tombs of this planet and the subjugation of countless worlds.

"Are you... Are you Ajunta Pall?" Revan found himself asking, drawing the spirit from his thoughts, those burning white eyes focusing on Revan once more.

Recognition settled across that ghastly face, the eyes dropping closed as he sighed, the room sighing with him, a breath of cold air that rustled Revan's dark robes, "Yes, that name was mine once. I was one of many, a proud Sith Lord of a great empire. In the end, it mattered not. We hid in darkness from those we had betrayed. We fell, and the earth consumed us."

"So why remain here?" Revan asked, watching as Ajunta's eyes snapped open again and settled on him, blazing and white as Korriban's sun.

"I..." the spirit began, stuttering over its words. "I have regretted for so long all that I have done. Perhaps that is what causes me to remain, as you say." Ajunta Pall gestured grandly and vaguely, and Revan's eyes fell on the sword, a sudden thought occurring to him as his eyes snapped back towards the door. "Behold, my kingdom, one of ruination and death. We sought to be kings, but in the end the same betrayal that caused us to turn against our masters consumed us... And we destroyed one another."

Pointedly avoiding the subject of Malak for the time being, Revan turned his attention back to the spirit of Ajunta Pall, lifting his head high, "And what about your Sith Warblade?"  

"My Warblade....?" Ajunta Pall's spirit muttered quietly. "It is here, desiccating as I am desiccating, filled with death, though it was once filled with my pride. Here we shall both remain until the end of all things."

Revan stared towards the swords on the wall for a long moment, his dark brow furrowing in thought. "I'm sorry," he said at last, letting the spirit's utter despair and regret wash over him, finding it wasn't too different than what he himself faced every day he drew breath. "I think I might understand."

"You do not," the spirit said firmly, "though it is true I sense regret inside of you. Perhaps one day you will..." It muttered, "but for now, I wish you none of this suffering, and must request something from you. It is possible you will not fail, as all those who come before you have failed."

The spirit continued when Revan looked up into his face questioningly, turning his back towards Revan to stare at the blades on the wall. "You must take my Warblade from this place, for I do not wish my fate upon it."

As Revan stepped up to Ajunta Pall's side, he could see the spirit bow his head, those impossible eyes closing again, giving the apparition the appearance of sleeping. "It has been so long... I cannot remember which, and I am afraid if you choose incorrectly, I must take your life." The spirit gestured vaguely behind them. "That is the way of these things, you see. My blade brings death wherever it goes. Such is the way of the Sith."

Sucking in a deep breath, Revan nodded, looking towards the blades once more, his body filling with a sense of resolve and purpose once more. "Any hints?" he asked quietly. "I don't think either of us will rest easily if I die here, and I have something important to do, too important to die now."

He could feel Ajunta Pall's eyes, burning like eternity, on his back as he stepped towards the ornate display.

When he spoke again, the words seemed to whisper and shiver through the room, like a chorus of Sith voices chanting from the beyond, causing the lit torches in the room to flicker, " ** _I am that which grips the heart in fright, harkens night and silences light..._** " The voices chanted, Ajunta's the loudest, words trailing off into a cacophony of hisses from the beyond and leaving Revan more chilled than he ever thought possible even as the flames brightened and their warmth began to return to the room.

"It was etched into my blade's hilt long ago," Ajunta Pall told him as Revan's feet finally took him to stand just in front of the display, looking at the three blades there. "Now go, find my blade and place it in the statue that guards this tomb..."

And just like that, Ajunta Pall's resting place was utterly silent once more.

Revan turned his eyes to the blades, wasting no time, dismissing the vibroblade off hand as the wrong blade. Sith Warblades were strong enough to withstand the heat of a lightsaber, made of one of the few kinds of metal they could not cut through, and no vibroblade would ever fit that description, no matter how well constructed.

Instead, he looked towards the last two swords, a sword with a gleaming blade lined in silver, and a wicked looking notched sword forged of metal so black Revan could see his reflection clearly in the surface. His first inclination was that appearances could be deceiving, followed by his second instinct, which was to reach out and firmly grasp each blade by its hilt to see if that changed his perception of them.

Carefully, he reached out to find the hilt of the first blade, finding it warm to the touch, growing hotter as he held it. The hilt itself was smooth, though there was a small arrangement of red gemstones on the pommel, shaped into a flame-like insignia.

As for the second... The second made shadows swim in front of his eyes, his vision pulsing, like the steady ebb and flow of the ocean of Mannan, so cold to the touch that it sent chills up his spine. As he ran his fingers across the hilt, he could feel characters etched there -- High Sith characters and a single raised circle, an insignia of some sort, though he couldn't see well enough at the moment to tell what it was.

Revan had no doubt that such a wicked sword was the blade he was looking for and pulled it from its display, making his way towards the statue. He was tall enough that he didn't have to scale it, a relief, but found himself even more relieved when the statue seemed almost greedy to hold the blade, as if it were meant to sit there, as if it had _always_ been meant to sit there.

Once more, Revan felt the cold exhalation of Ajunta Pall's presence on the back of his neck and turned around to find the spirit already facing him, a curious but unreadable expression on his ghastly face.

"Yes," the spirit whispered. "That is the one. Take it, this blade that destroyed me, take it and its brothers and leave this place. Leave me to my suffering and my darkness."

Revan felt any ounce of hesitation he had felt in the presence of the spirit before this point fade away, stepping forward to stop Ajunta Pall's retreat, though it made little sense when he didn't have a corporeal form.

"Wait," he said, and the spirit waited, though it did not turn around. "You don't have to stay here. You could leave."

The words seemed to hang in the air between them, heavy, and for a moment Revan was afraid he'd earned the spirit's wrath after all. Instead, Ajunta Pall turned slowly around, looking into his eyes with an expression of confusion written into the lines of his face, pulsing from his form like a beacon.

"What choice do I have?" the spirit asked him. "This place is my tomb, and I must stay here forever, alone with the things that I have wrought."

Revan shook his head and took a deep, steadying breath, "You can return to the Light. You can choose to go back. I..." Revan closed his eyes, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck as he bowed his head. "I did. I _am_. There's no reason you have to stay here, not when even I can pick up the pieces and go on."

"Even you?" Recognition seemed to flicker across the spirit's features, then resignation, then understanding. "I betrayed my masters, child. They would never let me return to the Light, it is too late... Far too late... Perhaps in life..."

Anger flared through Revan once again, and he took another step forward, surprising the spirit, who stared at him with wide eyes, seemingly frozen in space.

"The Light isn't a group of people," Revan said emphatically, still staring, all his fear and uncertainty burned out of him by the sudden fire of his own rage. "Change and redemption are a way of thinking, not a group or a place or a standard set by the Jedi. Haven't you suffered long enough? Aren't your lost memories and your regret enough? If you want to lay down that burden, lay down that burden and don't let their judgment stop you. Their forgiveness... It's not a metric for your change."

All at once, the age and decay seemed to drop from Ajunta Pall's ghostly visage, though the shock remained. Revan was surprised to find himself face to face with a man likely not much younger than he was in appearance, a man so utterly human that everything evil he had done seemed both laughable and more poignant in the face of it.

"Could I?" he muttered as if to himself. "Oh, Master..."

Tears seemed to slide in streaks down the spirit's cheeks and he reached out as if to some invisible hand. "It has been so long..." the ghostly voice whispered, growing softer and softer as Ajunta Pall's form seemed to mist and obscure, light burning from somewhere deep within the spirit's core. "I regret so much... But..."

There was a sigh, the faintest exhale, but not a sigh of resignation.

This was a sigh of relief, a puff of warm air across Revan's cheek, ruffling his hair and stirring his robes, somehow rejuvenating.

"It is over. I can rest."

And with that, the light faded, leaving the tomb feeling more restful than any other place he had been on this damn world.

All that was left was Revan, the blades, and the quiet sense that Revan should really learn to follow his own advice.

* * *

As it turned out, Revan needn't have worried about Shardan in the first place.

He had tried to steal the sword of Ajunta Pall from Revan as he was exiting the tomb and Revan had given him the vibroblade, which had earned Shardan Uthar's fatal wrath. While it wasn't exactly the morally right thing to do, Revan was quickly accepting that sometimes on Korriban one had to do the not amoral thing rather than the moral thing just in order to survive.

His sanity couldn't take questioning his own motivations any longer, not when he knew beyond a shadow of any clear doubt that he never wanted to be the Dark Lord again and that he _had_ changed.

Besides, he was quiet literally at the lip Naga Sadow's tomb.

If ever there had been a time to push away all doubts and focus on the task at hand, it was now.

Together, Uthar and Yuthara took him to the entrance, and immediately Revan was struck with a sense of power radiating from every slab of stone. There was a sharp, acrid scent in the air, too, one that was familiar to Revan in an extremely concrete way, more than the vague shadowy memories he was used to.

He recalled this scent more than the half-remembered whispers of voices and the obscure images that sometimes flashed through his mind, enough to know that he had been here before beyond the shadow of any reasonable doubt.

"You have done well to come this far," Uthar told him, pulling Revan from his thoughts, "but your final trial yet reminds before we welcome you into the ranks of the Sith. In this tomb, there has been placed a lightsaber." He could feel the man's eyes burn the cylinder at his side, as if judging it for its adequacy. "A _Sith's_ lightsaber. You will find your way to the crypt and you will bring the lightsaber back here to prove you have completed the trial, or you will die."

Revan nodded, distracted, his memories stirring like Firaxan shark beneath the waves of Mannan. Reaching up, he touched his forehead, trying to clear his mind and focus on the task at hand lest he be dragged down into the deep.

"It will be done," he said, looking over his shoulder towards Uthar before turning his attention back toward the tomb itself, trying to reach inside his memory for answers to how to get through this mess and finding only static. "Is there a time limit?"

"No," Uthar said, "But if you are not back in 12 hours, we will return to the Academy. If you are not back in 24, we will assume you are dead. If you do come back alive after that time, we will consider you successful regardless of what we previously assumed, but we will not wait forever -- be warned."

Yuthara's eyes burned as she stared at him, with a sort of pride and perhaps a bit of determination and regret, "I wish you luck ..." she said emphatically, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. "My apprentice."

Revan searched her face once last time and then nodded before he pulled away, taking a deep breath and clenching his fists, deciding to trust his instincts. Taking a step forward, Revan let his feet carrying him forward, finding himself standing on the brink of a large pit filled with a glowing green liquid that had etched long, deep gouges into surfaces it touched. It didn't bubble and there was no heat emanating from it, but it smelled... It smelled sharp and acidic, the corrosion on the walls a dead giveaway as to its purpose.

Lifting his head, Revan could see the door on the other side, ornate, much like the tomb door he'd just barely glimpsed before Jorak Uln had gassed him into submission. It was a fair guess, then, that he had to cross the pit in order to get to the Star Map and the lightsaber that the Overseers wanted him to retrieve.

Which meant there must be something in this tomb that would let him get across a bit that was much too wide to jump in a corridor with such a low hanging ceiling.

Turning around, Revan placed his hand on the wall, feeling the natural rises and dips of the stone, hallowed deep into the cliff side. Taking a deep breath and centering himself, Revan closed his eyes to look deep within himself -- he had to have done it before, if he had been here, if he had discovered the Star Map that had brought him to the Star Forge. Somewhere the knowledge was locked deep inside of him, just waiting for him to reach out and touch it, buried deep beneath brain damage and the fabricated memories of Cassus Jaylen, First Class Smuggler.

And then he felt it, the creep of cold up his arms branching upward from his palm, the pond of acid frozen over as he stood above it, Malak at his side. Another flash, and some sort of ancient dispenser, fastened to an ornately carved wall, one side glowing faintly blue, metal frosted over, the other side glowing orange, outside thick with condensation.

Opening his eyes, Revan rubbed his forehead, his temples pounding vaguely with the strain of forcing the memories out of the recesses of his own mind... But it had been worth it.

He now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his solution was in this tomb, taking his first steps forward with a new resolve, letting his feet carrying him towards his destination. Revan figured that his body remembered his experiences and knowledge better than his mind did at this point, and was willing to give himself up to that muscle memory, letting instinct take over.

Toward the left, down a longer, thinner corridor with a higher ceiling he walked, anticipation mounting... At least until he passed through the arch and saw two large beasts patrolling the room, the masticated remains of failed acolytes scattered across the floor.

They were massive, the size of young rancors, with mandibles protruding from either sides of their horrible fanged maws, their eyes small and beady, almost glowing with the sudden hunger that Revan could feel radiating through him -- a hunger that surely could never be satiated. Their arms were massive, and topped with razor-blade claws that seemed to darken at the tips, leaving him with a horrible sense of foreboding that he might die from even the slightest scrape against his skin.

He sucked in a breath, quickly hugging the wall before they could see him, his heart thundering in his chest. They were a bit like that beast on Kashyyyk but somehow almost more malevolent, larger and better fed off the bodies of hopeful Sith.

Immediately his hand went to the hilt of his saber, stroking it for comfort as a single word wormed its way between the cracks in his memory.

 _Terentatek_.

A Dark Side beast created through Sith Alchemy that feed on the blood of the Force Sensitive.

"Of all the things to remember," he hissed to himself, "it had to be the horrible abomination that wants to rip you to shreds just to get at the delicious red juice inside of you."

His mind raced with possibilities, ways to take on two at once before he settled on a solution -- craning his neck quickly around a corner to verify his initial impressions of his giant, lumbering, bloodthirsty opponents. Their eyes, just as he had thought, were largely forward facing, peripheral vision mostly blocked by their mandible-like tusks, their gruesome nature equal regardless of their level of actual mobility.

If he could just stay behind them or to the sides, he could find the chinks in their thick hide and wear them both down until they died.

The trick would be remaining swift enough to not get caught, because if one of them pinned him for even a moment...

He was done for.

Taking a deep breath, Revan slipped into the room, keeping close to the walls. Stealth wasn't exactly his strong suit, but he was fighting bit, stupid animals, not intelligent guards which improved his chances (if only nominally). Igniting his lightsaber, Revan watched as the creatures started, careful to always stay behind the both of them and to their sides as they searched for the source of the noise.

It was only when they calmed down again, apparently having decided that they'd been imagining noises in this grand old tomb, that he struck.

Dashing across an opening, Revan moved to one of the beast's left sides, shoving his blade up into the space underneath its arm. It cried out, the attention of the other beast immediately drawn to both of them. Revan dismissed his blade as his finger left the pressure plate, using his momentum to flatten himself and slide underneath the creature's legs, coming up running on the other side.

Igniting his blade again, he jumped towards the left, then forward while both creatures were facing opposite directions. Hopping towards the right, he found himself behind the wounded beast, its black blood dripping onto the dusty ground, seeming to steam where it lay.

Revan only had half an instant to take a breath before be dove forward, leaping into the air, stabbing the creature clean through the neck. He dismissed his blade once more the moment his feet made contact with the monster's back, pushing off to launch himself into the air once more... Which was the only reason the second monster didn't see him.

The first terentatek did not have the ability to scream its death knell, the sound coming out as a pathetic gurgle as its companion rushed to its side to investigate the source of the disturbance just as Revan landed on the other side of the room.

Quickly, Revan rolled to the side behind the remaining beast, rising to his feet and igniting his saber once more, this time standing his ground when the beast turned around, his saber casting an eerie violet glow on is grisly features.

For a moment, it seemed almost confused, as if it wasn't quite sure what to make of this tall, skinny man with a glowing sword facing it down fearlessly. The moment passed, however, and it let out a shriek of undistilled rage, charging him at full speed, the ground shaking with its footsteps.

Revan took a deep breath as he counted to three, letting the tension drain from his limbs, a sense of absolute peace and certainty washing over him.

Then, as his exhalation began, he charged the monster, not dodging to the left or jumping up into the air to avoid the swipe of its claws but once more flattening himself to the ground. Sticking his saber straight up into the air, Revan watched as his blade sliced through the underbelly of the terentatek, the heat of his weapon searing its innards.

Its cry of pain and the sound of it ramming into the wall at full speed was enough to make Revan's ears ring, but he didn't make a point of reaming still. Jumping to his feet, he charged for the door on the opposite side of the room, diving towards it. Not bothering to look at what had happened to the monster behind him, Revan hung his hilt at his hip but kept charging forward down a narrow hallway which opened up into a small room...

A very familiar looking small room with the dispenser and the intricately carved wall.

Letting out a loud, shaky laugh, Revan let himself fall to his knees, closing his eyes and leaning his head back as he caught his breath.

Behind him he could hear the groans of the monster, though eventually they ceased, leaving Revan alone once more in the tomb, the whispers of long dead Sith Spirits his only company.

He didn't mind, really.

As far as he was concerned, it was better than being some Sith abomination's juice box.

For a moment longer Revan sat on the cold stone, pushing himself to his feet only when he was certain he could stand again. That fight had been nerve-wracking, if only because terentatek's were notorious for killing whole groups of Force Users at once, so much so that the Jedi had once sent a hunting party after them -- A hunting party that had never returned.

Shaking his head slowly from side to side, Revan couldn't help but smile to himself as he approached the dispenser, reaching out for one of the cold, round orbs without really thinking about what he was doing.

If ever there was proof that he was the great and feared Revan, tactical genius, the most promising young Knight of the Jedi Order turned Galaxy Conquering Sith it was this. His ability to defeat two legendary beasts with three blows from his lightsaber.

It was almost comical, if he thought about it for too long.

One of the most powerful Force Users in the Galaxy, and he was just...

_Him._

Turning back around, Revan tread carefully through the chamber with the dead monsters, finding himself before the acid pool once more before very long. Looking down at the sphere in his hand -- an ice grenade, he supposed -- Revan held it out over the pit and let it fall, watching as ice slowly crept across the glowing surface, making it stable to walk on.

The room didn't smell any better, certainly, but at least he could get across.

Not certain how long the grenade would last for, Revan hopped across the ice in a few bounds, grateful for his long legs, and opened the door on the other side, finding himself face to face with both of his goals at once.

First there was the lightsaber, the hilt of perfect black, which he picked up without thinking before he turned his attention to the Star Map.

The sense of relief that filled him when he finally laid eyes on it was incredible, flooding his entire body as he realized that this was it -- The key, the last puzzle piece, the gateway to the end of everything. Here he had it, the map of the Infinite Empire of the Builders, the key to finding the Star Forge and Malak, the key to finally ending all of this and bringing the Sith Conquest to an end.

Reaching out for the datapad tucked into a satchel on his belt, Revan absently recorded the information, taking a moment to simply bask in the feeling. Whatever happened now, whatever betrayal he would surely face from both Uthar and Yuthara, he could deal with it just knowing that he had the final piece to the start of the solution.

"I'm coming, Bastila," he muttered as he tucked his datapad back into its pouch, letting the glow from the map wash over him.

For a moment, he was struck with a sense of dissonance between his memories and his current reality, the sense of peace and a sense of pride warring with one another. Eventually, though, he settled the discord by focusing instead of the feeling of accomplishment he'd felt in both instances, not taking too much longer to dwell in it before he turned his attention back towards the door.

Just like that, a chapter in his life was coming to an end.

All that was left now was the finale, and for once in his life, Revan felt he could face it with absolute certainty.

The problem was, he didn't know how long that feeling would last.

Pushing the thought away for the time being, gripping the Sith blade in his hand, Revan stepped through the doorway and back toward Uthar and Yuthara. No matter what he faced now, no matter what else he felt, Revan was ready to leave the darkness, desperation, and betrayal of Korriban behind.

He could only hope that this time it would be forever.


	35. Part Four: Chapter Thirty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't quite as emotionally tense as the last several. I'm sorry if it seems like a decrease in the quality of writing, but I really did feel like it was necessary to wind Revan down from everything he's been through the last several days in story. 
> 
> So here you go, a transitory chapter with at least a few funny one-liners. 
> 
> Enjoy. :)

There was no rush in getting back to the Ebon Hawk.

Revan and Yuthara had killed Uthar together, and after Yuthara's defeat at his own hand he had spared her, encouraging her to think about the way the trials were administered and how the Sith students were treated. They hadn't exactly separated on good terms, per se, but she seemed to realize that he was more powerful than her, and that there was something more to him than she could understand.

It was thus that he left the Sith Academy the opposite of how he had entered it -- With little fanfare, like he had never been there at all.

And yet Revan couldn't deny that it had changed him, especially returning to his anxious companions. It had really only been about four days he'd left them here, but they all seemed wary the moment he entered, with the exceptions of Bindo and HK, only the later of who seemed particularly happy to see him.

Their reaction just seemed to hold in sharp contrast exactly how much he had faced in the Academy, even as he walked past them all without a word to the cockpit, leaving them in suspense. He wondered if they thought he would Fall again, or if he would die and never return and they would be here on a Sith world without any way of knowing. Revan couldn't really be sure, and honestly, if they didn't tell him it wouldn't exactly bother him, either.

He didn't hold any of their potential doubts against them, though, pushing the feelings down as he turned his attention to Carth, who looked up in surprise as he entered.

To his surprise, Carth smiled when he saw him and motioned towards the NavComputer.

"I assume you have our heading, Commander?"

"I will once I look over the map fragments together. I actually wanted to consult with you on that," Revan said with an easy smile and a shrug. "I figured talking to someone who knows more about ships in general would be helpful..." he trailed off, searching Carth's face with his eyes. "That is, if you don't mind, Captain."

"Not at all. In fact, I'd be delighted to help you. The sooner we get all of this over with," Carth said as he motioned vaguely around him, as if indicating the entire Galaxy, "the sooner I can go to Coruscant to meet up with Dustil."

"It worked out then? Everything with your son?" Revan asked, leaning back against the edge of the console, watching Carth's expression carefully for signs of cageyness and finding none.

"It worked out as well as I think it could have, honestly," Carth said, his face falling slightly. "And if I'm going to be serious, I think it only worked out because you pushed me to do it in the first place. If I were on my own, I probably would have botched things up."

Carth sighed and shifted, running his hand over the stubble on his face, his shoulder drooping, even his orange jacket looking somehow sad and tired in that moment, "Listen, I'm aware that I didn't treat you the best in the aftermath of everything that happened. I guess it didn't really occur to me then that the person who would be most affected by finding out he's really the former Dark Lord is... well, _you_."

Revan opened his mouth to respond but Carth held up his hand, silencing Revan.

"I'm trying to say I'm sorry. You've been nothing but a friend to me from the beginning, even if you are a bit of a sarcastic jackass," Carth laughed, and it put Revan more at ease than he had been in a long time. "I threw that back in your face and made everything you're going through a lot worse. I just realized that we made you take everything onto your own shoulders and expected you not to Fall again when we didn't give you any support, so I guess my point is..."

Carth sighed, rubbing his hand over his whole face, laughing in embarrassment, "I'm not good at this, but I'm here if you need me. You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

Revan was quiet for a moment, and then reached his hand out to place it on Carth's shoulder, marveling that Carth didn't draw away. Instead, his eyes focused on Revan, and for the first time a sense of real understanding passed between them.

It was the first time Revan thought he had ever truly understood Carth, that Carth had ever truly opened up to him, and Revan wasn't about to throw that back into his face.

"I think it's normal to be afraid of the things that we blame for changing our lives. In a way, it's my fault you lost so much because I'm the one who caused Malak to fall," Revan frowned sharply, shocked when Carth grasped his arm firmly with one of his hands. "I don't know that you were right to treat me the way you did, but sometimes life isn't about right and wrong. Sometimes it's about doing something stupid and then having to make up for it later. If I didn't forgive you, not only would I be a hypocrite, I'd be a bad friend, and I won't do that..."

Revan hesitated for a moment before he pulled away, Malak's face as it had been before they'd Fallen flashing through his mind once more.

"Not again," he said, finishing. "Now come on. Let's go to the main chamber and look at this map. I'm betting everyone is just _dying_ to know about the petty Sith drama of the Academy."

Carth snorted, "Sure. It has nothing to do with you at all, naturally."

"Naturally," Revan said, grinning from ear to ear as he watched Carth leave the cockpit.

The moment Carth left his smile faltered and he ran his hand over the back of his neck, looking up at the tubes on the ceiling. Malak and Bastila swam at the forefront of his thoughts, glimpses of white sand beaches with bright blue waters and the wreckage of countless capital ships sticking out of the ocean like spires playing through his mind. He knew that it had to be their destination, especially when he imagined the sky, dominated by a dark shape, pronged curves built around a sphere, the symbol of the Sith Empire.

The shape of the Star Forge...

The Infinite Engine.

He exhaled and opened his eyes, pushing himself away from the console, suddenly feeling... odd. Revan realized quickly that it was because it had only just occurred to him that the infinite army of the Sith Empire had once belonged to him, had been at his beck and call, under his command, and that he had used it to take Duros and countless other worlds.

And he still didn't know why.

Taking a deep breath, Revan accepted it for what it was, though he filed it away for thinking about later.

Pretty soon it wouldn't matter anymore, anyway.

The Star Forge was soon going to be a relic of the past, just like the Infinite Empire, just like Ajunta Pall and the Sith Lords of long ago Korriban.

All things eventually came to an end.

Shaking himself of the thoughts for the time being, Revan made his way back to the hub of the Hawk, caught off guard enough that Canderous almost knocked him to the floor when he slapped Revan on the back with his open palm. Wind knocked out of him, Revan braced himself against the Hawk's bench, looking towards Canderous, who was grinning down at him.

"You're back," the Mandalorian said as Revan forced himself to straighten. "Just what I would have expected from the man who so masterfully defeated my people over Malachor V. No Sith could contain you."

The words gave Revan pause, his dark eyes sliding over Canderous' face before he relaxed and laughed, "Only a Mandalorian could possibly be happy when he lost a fight."

"It was a good fight," Canderous said with a shrug. "You got what we need?"

"Yeah, and I might need the help of the Galaxy savvy and the old and learned," Revan heard Bindo snort from somewhere to his left as he pulled up his recordings of the Map pieces on the datapad. "I know the known Galaxy, obviously, but I'm thinking this coordinate is in the Unknown Regions, somewhere out beyond the Outer Rim. I just don't know how we'd input these coordinates."

"Things like this are always hard," Bindo agreed, walking over to get a closer look at the completed map -- all five pieces overlaid to create a coherent map of the once great Infinite Empire. "You never know when you might run into a star or a nebula or something else inconvenient, like a pod of purgil."

Zalbaar muttered something under his breath about mynocks chewing ship cables or worse, and Revan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck once more, "Well at least there's not much risk of exogarth unless we trip into an asteroid field. What do you think we can do? Is there anything close to a hyperlane for this?"

Bindo and Carth exchanged glances, but it was Carth who spoke first.

"Probably not," he said, "but we can guess just by looking at the map on how to avoid the really _big_ things... Like stars. The best we can do is trust that this is going to work out. Unless you remember specifics..."

Revan furrowed his brow and tried to genuinely remember potential specifics for a moment, rubbing his temples when his mind came up with static. He exhaled, leaning back in his seat to stare up at the ceiling once more, taking a moment to fight back the sudden throbbing behind his eyes.

"Sorry," he said with a shrug. "My memory only works when I don't want it to. It looks like we're just going to have to calculate the best possible path and hope that we don't run into a pod of purgil or Sith Interdictors."

Carth nodded, "Well, T3 and I will get on that. His processors can do more precise math than I can, anyway." He looked toward the datapad, then arched his eyebrows, "Mind if we borrow this?"

"Knock yourself out. It's not like I have anything incriminating on there. Just my journals, and you don't want to read those," Revan grinned. "Too dramatic and weepy for a straight-laced military guy like you."

T3 beeped his reassurance at Revan and began to wheel toward the cockpit, Carth snorting as he gathered up the datapad to follow after him, though not before levying Revan with a witty retort. "No one would believe you anyway, you know. No offense, but you don't exactly look like a Dark Lord."

"I'm wounded," Revan muttered as he listened to Carth's receding footsteps. "Really hurt, I promise. How could you ever say such a thing?"

Mission, sitting on the opposite arm of the Hawk's little bench, laughed quietly to herself and rolled her eyes, and Revan felt himself relax in response. Things were back to somewhat normal with the crew, like they had been on Mannan before all of this had happened, but somehow it made him miss Bastila even more.

She should be here and she...

She wasn't.

"Well," Revan said quietly, standing and stretching. "I haven't slept well the past week, so I think I'm going to try catch up on my sleep with a nap."

"Can't say as I blame you," Bindo said. "Don't worry, we'll wake you if anything interesting happens."

Revan nodded, exchanged glances with a few of his friends, and shuffled off towards the ship's bunks. He looked around, finding that it all looked so mundane now, that he had lived here on this ship for the better part of a year now, and that so much had changed in that time that he barely recognized himself or his surroundings.

Wearily, Revan sat down on the edge of one of the beds, spending a moment just listening to the sounds of the ship before he swung his legs over the side and curled up, flipping over to stare at the wall in his cubby. Instead of focusing too much on the things that were yet to come, Revan let his mind wander, his eyes closing as his breathing slowed and he drifted into a state of half-rest.

Not quite sleeping, he found himself finally thinking about everything that had happened since he had arrived on the Endar Spire, an event he barely remembered. At the time, he had thought it had been of a large paradigm shift in his life, from smuggler to soldier in a matter of weeks, but now he realized he probably should have been hospitalized as a results of the injuries he'd sustained both physically and mentally when Malak had betrayed him.

The disorientation wasn't because of a world shifting around him, but because he was like a newborn in some ways, stumbling into his new life with awkward hands as his brain and body slowly knit themselves together over the course of the months he had served on the ship. How long had Bastila intended to keep them there, he wondered? How long until she decided it was time to try to find the Star Forge, something the Jedi surely had to already have an inkling of for them to think him so important?

He recognized now that some of the scars on his body were new, marveled at his own ignorance on Taris and earlier and wondered how he couldn't have realized he was Force Sensitive, especially when it felt so natural to him. Everything was so simple then, all centered around his freedom, but even in the beginning there had been a willfulness to him coupled with a deeper understanding of the situation that no smuggler ever should have had unless they were an ex-Sith themselves.

Something that Bindo had sagely pointed out when they'd first been introduced.

And that, maybe, was the beginning of the end for Revan, the start of those first real phantom voices in the Dark Side laden depths of the Shadowlands, thousands of kilometers beneath the wookie cities. Before that there had been hints, like the Jawas on Tatooine, but nothing that had really unsettled him quite so much. Even the nightmares hadn't seemed enough to convince him he was Revan, just somehow connected to him through fate and circumstance.

And now here he was, the weight of an entire Galaxy rightfully sitting between his shoulder blades, waiting for him to make up for everything he had done.

One day, Revan resolved, he would know his own reasoning, he would fill in the cracks and find his answers. The blanks would slowly be replaced with words and images, scents and sensations, the emptiness of his mind with memories, if it was the last thing he did. He'd been told things were impossible before, but Revan preferred not to believe in the word, figuring somewhere -- out in the great Galaxy beyond -- there must be a solution to his problem.

And even if there wasn't, he would never give up looking.

But now was not the time to think about what he might do or be after all of this was over.

Now was the time to focus on saving Bastila and to let her make her own decisions regarding him, to accept whatever her answer was, be it no or that impossible word: "yes".

Now was the time to focus on ending Malak's threat, something Revan knew could only be done through death, though it grieved him more than he could explain to think on what that meant for the both of them.

It was time to unravel the plot he'd woven through the stars with machines and manpower, to tug on the threads until the entire tapestry came loose and the Empire he'd built came tumbling down.

He had to, or else the entire Galaxy was at risk.

It was to those thoughts that Revan finally drifted off into a sleep that was, for once, unburdened by dreams of any sort.

* * *

Life returned completely to normal for Revan over the next few days, falling back into his habit of training with Juhani and Bindo easily, helping Carth and T3 with the maintenance of the ship, spending time working through old events with HK, and playing dejarik with Mission while Zalbaar and Canderous looked on. There was little else to do on their journey towards this Unknown World, and though everyone expressed concern for him in their own way, Revan was relieved to realize that it was because he was their friend, not because they had been concerned that he would Fall again.

Considering how close he might have come, he wasn't sure whether or not he should be disappointed in himself or relieved that they didn't know exactly how much Korriban had made him struggle.

Either way, they didn't ask for the details and he didn't really discuss them, either.

What had happened had happened, and Revan somehow sensed that his greatest trials were yet to come.

Still, as the days in hyperspace dragged on, there reached a tipping point where anticipation began to build. It was enough that Revan could practically feel it through the Force itself, not just the mounting nervousness (and excitement) of his companions as they all waited for something, _anything_ , to happen.

When everything finally came to a head, Revan was meditating alone in the cargo hold, trying to get Bastila to drop her defenses and let them touch her mind through their Bond. She hadn't since he had walked into her dream on Korriban and it was worrying him, especially as he could at least sense her distress before. Revan strongly suspected Malak had suggested she keep herself closed off from him, and was just beginning to get frustrated when the entire Hawk lurched beneath him and Mission came barreling through the door.

"Captain Republic wants you in the cockpit now, Your Lordship!" she shouted, never losing her tongue in cheek nicknames even in the middle of a crisis. "We're caught in some kind of gravitational field and he needs you to check the readings to see what we're dealing with!"

Revan was on his feet before the end of her explanation, running past her towards the cockpit before she had finished, "Get everyone locked in!" Revan shouted at her over his shoulder. "Something tells me we're in for a bumpy ride!"

Not waiting to see if she responded or followed his orders, Revan burst into the cockpit a moment later, freezing in place when he looked out the viewport, the sight of the planet below them momentarily stalling his mind.

Blue and white and green for miles, a tropical world, and in the atmosphere above it...

"Commander!" Carth's voice called, snapping Revan from the cusp of his memories and pulling him back to the present. "You still in there? I need those readouts now if we're going to survive this crash."

Spinning just as the ship lurched beneath them again, Revan turned his eyes to the Hawk's displays, reading over them as quickly as he could as he reached out to catch himself on the back of the pilot's chair.

"Not good," Revan said. "The source of the field looks like it's from the planet itself. There's some kind of generator on one of the island chains --It looks like might be a defense against people attacking the --"

Another, more violent lurch knocked Revan to his ass mid sentence, sending him flying into the wall opposite the NavComputer hard enough that he had the wind momentarily knocked out of him. Gasping for breath, his chest aching, Revan struggled to his feet and inelegantly stumbled towards the co-pilot's chair, strapping himself in as quickly as he could while still stunned.

"Star Forge," he finished once he had caught his breath. "What do you need me to do?"

"Steer," Carth said. "You saw the rough location of that gravitational field generator, right?"

Revan nodded, reaching for the controls on his side of the cockpit. "You know she's going to take damage, right?"

"Yeah," Carth called over the sudden sound of the Hawk's emergency alarms. "It's my job to make sure she goes down as nicely as we can manage. Hold onto your stomach, Commander..." Carth reached up to flip a switch directly over the control panel. "We're about to be tossed like an Alderanian salad."

"Sounds delicious," Revan replied, ignoring the look Carth shot him as he reached out to the Force to enhance his reflexes, figuring he might as well make this as smooth as possible for all of them... Perhaps especially the Droids.

The next minutes passed by in a blur, seeming to drag on and pass in an instant at the same time, Revan and Carth working together to bring the Hawk safely through the atmosphere, to slow her speed as much as possible even though she was being pulled by several times the force of typical gravity towards the surface of the unknown world. Relief didn't come when they broke through the bottom of the field and into the planet's normal atmosphere, their acceleration great enough that there was a single second when Revan thought they might not succeed.

That single second was over when Carth jammed upwards, reversing the direction of their thrusters, sending the Hawk coasting along the shore line, belly downward. Her speed slowed enough that when they hit the sand it may have sent sprays of earthy debris flying in every direction, but the ship itself didn't break apart. Instead, they skipped like a flat stone across water until they slid to a complete stop on the beach, the ships emergency lights still flashing red across the control panel.

Revan released a whistle, laughing as he dropped his head to the cool surface of the panel after frantically struggling with his restraints.

He couldn't help but feel giddy, even if some part of him realized they were stranded here unless they could find a means to repair whatever damage he was _sure_ the Hawk had suffered during their rapid descent. Limbs shaking, Revan finally found the strength to pull himself upward, forcing his body to obey his commands as he looked into Carth's face.

"Well," he said, gulping back the last of his laughter, "we're _not_ dead."                 

"I guess the Force _really_ wants you to succeed," Carth said, still sitting limp in the pilot's chair. "Better get up and make sure everyone is sound. Then try to figure out what we're going to do to fix this ship... And where to go to turn off that gravitational generator."

Revan nodded, then reached up to rub his head, still feeling jostled from the fall and a bit weak with relief. His mind, though, was active, swimming with half remembered experiences, reminding him that yes, he had absolutely been here before.

Perhaps multiple times.

"This world's a bit of a ship graveyard," Revan said at last. "We should be able to salvage parts for the Hawk, and personally? I think that should be priority. It might take you a bit to fix the ship."

Carth let out a shaky laugh and finally unfastened his restraints, "Right," he muttered in a rough voice. "You've been here before. Somehow I almost forgot that."

"To be fair, you have had a lot on your mind the last few minutes," Revan pointed out, finally pushing himself to his feet, reaching out to turn off the emergency lights and alarms, plunging the ship into the shadow save for the midday light filtering in through the portholes. "I think we kind of both have."

"That's a bit of an understatement," Carth muttered, standing as he turned his attention away from the cockpit. "I'm going to go check the damage and make a list of the kinds of things we might need."

Revan nodded, opting not to respond verbally, the two of them making their way out into the common room of the Hawk, where the rest of the crew was either stumbling around, working out the kinks in their limbs, or sitting with a semi-stunned expression on their faces. Carth, who was followed a moment later by a brightly chirping T3, headed towards the Hawk's exterior, leaving Revan alone with the rest of their little party.

"How are you feeling? Everyone in one piece?" Revan asked.

"Observation: I appear to be whole, Master," HK declared, the first to respond. "Would you prefer I run a more conclusive diagnostic?"

"That's up to you," Revan said as he turned towards Canderous, who was muttering under his breath and rolling one of his shoulders.

"Jammed it," he said when he noticed Revan was looking at him. "I'll be fine, just have to work it out a bit." Looking towards the faces of the others, the faces of both Jedi carefully composed, he shrugged with his still functional shoulder and continued speaking. "I might as well ask it since it doesn't like anyone else is going to. Where the hell are we?"

"Technically I have no idea," replied Revan sincerely, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I can tell you that I've been here before and that our target is orbiting this planet. We were pulled down by some kind of gravitational field and are going to have to find a way to shut it off."

"And I assume find a way to fix the Ebon Hawk," Juhani said, motioning around them. "We took quite the fall."

"It could have been worse," Mission replied, and Revan looked toward her, wondering what exactly she was thinking about. "We could have lost her after everything she's brought us through. At least we can probably put some effort and time into fixing her and getting her in the air again."

"Which means I'll need help finding salvage off the other ships crashed here," Revan pointed out, holding up a finger, other hand still resting on the back of his neck. "We've got to get Carth what he needs. After that we can focus on the generator."

"You sure that's the best way to do things?" Bindo asked suddenly, catching Revan off guard. "We could split up, send Mission, Zalbaar, and your droid to get the parts. Canderous could stay here to help guard the ship from local predators with Carth, and the three of us could see about this generator."

For a moment, Revan simply stared at the old man, wondering what he was getting at, before he shook his head slowly. There was something to what Jolee had said, but Revan wasn't sure he wanted to breach that right now. It was something they could discuss later, he decided, if they ever discussed it at all.

Right now, staying organized was the most important thing to their survival.

"I know you survived for years on a hostile world where everything wanted to kill you, but not everyone here has the same kind of life experience as you do. I think that you or Juhani should stay here to help Canderous with his shoulder so he _can_ help defend the ship while the rest of us are off looking for the generator," he looked toward Canderous, who hardly looked pleased but nodded in resignation regardless, then turned his attention elsewhere.

"HK can stay here and make a perimeter to ensure that none of the local wildlife gets to close," Revan continued, "while whoever isn't helping Canderous takes some time to try to find a fresh source of water. There's a food supply on the Hawk, so we shouldn't have to worry about that, but we have no idea how long we'll be here."

Juhani, who seemed less convinced of Bindo's plan than he was, nodded while HK seemed to positively glow with pleasure at his task.

"Excitement: They may not be meatbags, Master, but I'm glad you're finally utilizing some of my true potential."

Revan couldn't help but feel a surge of odd affection for the Droid as he shook his head slowly from side to side, holding back a chuckle, "Just no giant explosions, HK. That would attract more dangerous wildlife."

Not waiting for a response, he turned his attention to Mission and Zalbaar, "Which leaves you two. You're former salvagers, so I bet you know your way around tech. I might need your help transporting what Carth needs here."

Mission saluted him, and then turned around, her lekku swaying as she did, "I'll have to go get my guns out of storage, then. Come on, Big Z."

Zalbaar spent a moment looking at Revan with his dark, wise eyes and then rumbled his agreement, striding after Mission.

"You sure this is the best course of action?" Bindo asked Revan. "Wouldn't it make sense to get things done quickly?"

The words gave Revan pause, instinct tingling up the back of his neck telling him that something was very off with this conversation. Juhani was already leading Canderous to medical, while HK had apparently followed T3 and Carth from the little freighter, pleased as could be with his assignment, leaving the two of them more or less alone.

If ever there was a time for confrontation...

"What did you do?" Revan asked, "Because unless the Republic Fleet is on its way, I see no reason for this kind of hurry. The Sith will probably assume we're dead, and even if Malak and ... And his Acolytes don't, it's going to take a long time for them to search the entire planet if they have to deactivate their own shield to send a force large enough to get to us. Either way, I'd say we're in a pretty good..."

Suddenly, the solution occurred to him, and his brows furrowed deeply over his eyes, his hands balling into fists at his sides, fingernails digging painfully into the flesh of his own palms, "The Republic Fleet. They're coming."

Without thinking, Revan cursed, loudly, his hand flying once more to the back of his neck, which he rubbed in fierce frustration, "Who signaled them, Bindo? You? Carth?"

"Carth. I saw him do it," Bindo said. "Though at the time, he couldn't have known about the gravitational field. If you're going to be annoyed at him for not telling you --"

"I'm not!" Revan snapped, narrowing his eyes as Bindo quirked his eyebrows in response, gulping down a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm not. He couldn't have known this would happen. The only one who _could have_ is me and my memory is filled with more holes than a kaminoan sponge." He threw his hands into the air, staring up at the ceiling when he realized he had no idea where to look or what to do. "This is bad, Bindo. _Kriffing hell_! I guess we'll just have to be as efficient as possible, because you still can't convince me that splitting up our group so severely is a good thing."

"If you think we can do it, I'll defer to you," Bindo said, "but you know what's at stake here."

For a moment, Revan simply stared openly at the old man, bristling vaguely at the implication that he didn't fully understand the number of lives that were at risk if they didn't switch off the gravitational field in time. Entire fleets of Capital Ships, entire lives, and all the Sith would have to do is sit comfortably in the Star Forge and watch them plummet into this world's atmosphere.

Revan had watched fleets burn before, over Malachor V... Watched...

Watched...

Watched them plummet into the earth, destroying entire ecosystems...

Reaching up, he rubbed his temples, fighting away images of green lightning bouncing between clouds black with ash, a moon once rife with life thick with the stench of death, the earth beneath his feet cracked... Polluted...

He took a breath, and suddenly he was on the Ebon Hawk again.

"I know what's at stake more than you do," Revan said at last, ignoring the expression that crossed Bindo's face. "You said your purpose here was to observe me, right?" He didn't wait for an answer, waving his hand as he gestured vaguely around them. "Then observe. I'll find a way."

He was glad he sounded more confident than he felt but didn't really believe he was fooling anyone within earshot with that little speech _._

 _Especially_ not himself.

"Now come on," he said, stepping away from Bindo towards the Hawk's hatch, "we don't have any time to waste. I'm going to see if Carth and T3 are any close to coming up with a list."

All he could do was pray to the Force that they were and trust that everything would work out in the end.

Somewhere, a voice in the back of his mind told him to trust his insticts as he stepped out into the glaring sun of the unknown world's paradisiacal beaches. His instincts had never failed him, an unconscious extension of a connection to the Force more powerful than perhaps he even fully understood.

Surrendering himself to that feeling, Revan let himself believe that this was his destiny and that nothing could deter him from it.


	36. Part Four: Chapter Thirty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than usual. 
> 
> The thing I'm trying to start to develop in Revan this arc is part of the reason the Revan Novel and, more importantly, KOTOR II kind of bother me in terms of Revan's characterization. I just feel like he already has learned the lesson that gets him into so much trouble in that novel.

Revan, Mission, and Zalbaar had returned from the salvage mission before dusk, the sun just beginning to sink over the horizon. It had taken the better part of the day to eke out a small stronghold on the beach, and though Revan wasn't looking forward to spending their first night here, they had at least managed to get _somewhere_ in the short time they'd been on this world.

Even though the planet was beautiful and its presence in the Force had faded, Revan could still feel something similar to what he'd felt on Korriban moving sluggishly all around him. Maybe this place was a faded bastion now, but once it had been a world pulsating with the presence of the Dark Side.  

Still, it was at least easier to push aside than it had been in the Valley of the Dark Lords.

It was with that thought that he returned to the Hawk to try to get at least a little bit of rest, already certain he'd not be able to get much at all, thoughts of Malachor V haunting his dreams.

True to his own predictions, Revan slept restlessly before he was woken by Canderous to take his watch, finding the beach outside to be quiet.

Moonlight cast pale streaks in the black ocean, illuminating the edges of shapes that were either the hulls of ships or ancient skyscrapers from a long forgotten city. Listening to the sounds of the tide against the shore, Revan found himself wondering if Taris might look more like this in a hundred years. A ruined city world, certainly, but perhaps nature would reclaim it slowly a bit at a time until whatever wild life had survived could crawl its way out of the depths of the Undercity to make the world their own.

Not for the first time since Taris, Revan found himself wondering about the people of the Undercity, his mind wandering slowly to Dantooine before he hesitated, the distractions of the world beneath him no longer holding his attention from above.

For a moment, Revan's eyes scanned the night sky and its oddly familiar star formations, wondering vaguely how long he'd spent on this world in the past. He could see the moon, turning the sands of the beach practically silver beneath him, and near the moon, little more than a dark shape against a darker background, was what Revan had hoped to see.

The Star Forge.

It looked exactly like he had expected it to, like Rakatan technology just on a much, much larger scale. He could see that it was old, could surmise that there was little understood about its construction, and that it really was churning out Malak's ships and droids at an incredible rate.

A sense of foreboding filled Revan as he stared at it, suddenly aware that Malak was going to use it in a way that might tempt the Force to turn on the Sith Empire. Looking down to his own hand, gloved in brown leather, Revan realized that day might have already come.

Maybe -- No, not just maybe.

Revan was the Force's answer to whatever Malak was doing up there, to whatever Malak intended to do. He was still alive for the sole purpose of bringing the Sith Empire to its knees, something he was painfully aware of, perhaps more so than he ever had been, as he stood on that beach alone.

He was so aware of it that for once he was aware of little else, and that was why he found a blade pressed to the column of his neck a breath later. Freezing, Revan had to stop his twitching fingers from falling to his lightsabers immediately, aware of how large and solid the frame of the creature behind him was.

"Is it you, Dark Outsider?" he heard a voice hiss in the language of the computers, forcing Revan to acknowledge that he understood the language fluently. "The One demands your presence. You have business you must discuss."

Revan didn't hesitate, staying perfectly still, "Of course," he said - in _that same language_ \- remaining calm. "It's been a long time since I could last speak to the One. You're free to take me to him."

The blade dropped from his neck, and into his line of sight stepped a tall alien with dark red skin, eye stalks short and on the exact sides of its roughly conical shaped head. In the darkness of his peripheral vision, Revan was suddenly painfully aware that this native was not alone, and cursed himself for being so involved in his own thoughts that he failed to notice he was being watched.

"Then come," the alien said, stepping ahead of him, his leathers swimming around his form. "You will be treated as honored guest, as the One assumes you will now fulfill our original arrangement."

Keeping his eyes trained carefully forward, not wanting to give away the location of his friends, Revan took a deep breath and began to follow the native through the darkness, saying nothing. His mind was moving a mile a minute, trying to remember exactly what deal he might have made once upon a time, but he wasn't really certain. As usual, any attempt to remember made his temples pound with pain through his effort, and he needed his mind to be clear right now.

He was sure he could talk the natives, maybe even this One, to tell him somehow.

Right now, keeping calm and in control was more important than chasing his latent experience to the surface, though he was sure whatever he had done...

It had been brutal.

No one said anything else as the group of them traveled through the darkness together, into the jungle. Revan had some idea of where they were going, though only because he'd spent the morning searching for wrecks at the edges. Eventually, though, he didn't recognize their surroundings quite as well, though made sure to keep careful track of the path they'd traveled.

If he played his cards right, it was possible this wouldn't be fatal.

Maybe.

Eventually, Revan saw the dark shape of a compound through the tangle of trees. It appeared to be roughly hewn together from logs, rope, and what Revan could only assume was spite, considering their wicked weapons. It stood in a wide clearing on top of a hill that overlooked the beaches. There, he could clearly see the Hawk's skid marks, making it apparent how these natives had known of his arrival.

As they neared, torches began to light the pathway toward the large, imposing gates that dwarfed even the massive aliens beside him. His guard, the red alien, called up as the gates slowly creaked open, revealing a well maintained stone path, belying an intelligence that could apply those wicked blades to equally wicked deeds.

Taking a deep breath, Revan straightened his own back, placing his hand on the hilt of one of his lightsabers. Quietly, he called on the part of him that he knew was always there, the darkest part, feeling the persona settle like a shroud on his back.

In response his strides grew more fluid and his lips curved upward into that grin he remembered all too well, some of those still awake as he sauntered through the village giving him a wide berth as a result. Others, he noticed, grew more tense, but all seemed to recognize him, something that increased the sense of unease he felt behind his carefully constructed mask.

What had these people seen him do?

Eventually, they left the residential section of the compound as Revan found himself escorted past some sort of well, over a rickety old wooden bridge, and into a massive arena that second glances revealed served as a beast pit and prison. Swallowing, Revan gripped the hilt of his saber more tightly as his eyes fell on the massive wooden chair in the center of the stadium, occupied by a single alien, much larger than all the others with skin so black that he might have been indistinguishable from the darkness were it not for the torches on either side of him.

 _The One_ , a voice in his head told him. _Don't bow. You are his equal._

At his sides, his little escort stepped away, leaving Revan alone with the being as he stood and walked confidently toward his guest, reaching out his hand to briefly grasp Revan's shoulder in greeting, "Dark Outsider," he began. "It has been long since you last stepped foot on our world outside the Ancient Temple. Have you finally come to fulfill your promise with the power you demonstrated by tearing our language from my mind?"

 ** _Tearing_** the language from his mind?

His mind racing, Revan nodded, keeping his outward composure in spite of the way his thoughts sped, wondering if such a feat was even possible. Apparently it was, Revan thought ruefully as he spoke, "Of course. I would not break my promise to The One. I simply needed time to make your opponents grow weary and anxious. It will make their demise all the sweeter."

The One looked at him for a moment, then titled his head to his side before he barked out a strange sounding laugh in his purring voice, "Of course!" he cried. "The Dark Outsider thinks like a Rakata and sees fit to play with his prey for amusement before devouring them whole. The Elder Ones will feel your wrath yet."

_Elder Ones._

The name did sound familiar, Revan thought, looking out over the walls of the compound to see the dark shape of a temple looming against the backdrop of the moon. Immediately, he was struck by the sensation that he'd seen this exact view before, shaking himself of it as he turned his attention back to The One, who was walking towards Revan's escort party.

"Tonight we will have a feast in the Dark Outsider's honor to prepare him for tomorrow's great hunt," he declared, and clapped his hands together, two of their number scurrying off to relay whatever orders this feast entailed. "He will rest here in strength and tomorrow will free us from our ignorance by slaying those who keep the knowledge of the Ancestors from our hands!"

Revan saw no way out of the arrangement and no way to turn on his comm and alert anyone to what had happened. He would have to return in the morning and explain, but at least he knew where they should head now...

The Temple.

Revan knew he had to have gone there before and he knew, somehow, by simply looking at it that it held the Gravitational Generator. Just this answer saved them more time than Revan could have possibly hoped for by pointing out something he couldn't have seen from the lowlands of the beach or a line of dense trees.

He just hoped that this situation wasn't any more complicated than it already was, what with his past self promising mass murder to the natives, who kept live beasts in an arena and played with their food -- possibly quite literally -- before killing it.

Somehow, though, he had very little faith in his past self.

Darth Revan wasn't above playing multiple people like a well-tuned kloohorn if it meant he didn't have to do any extra work himself and damn who it hurt in the future.

This time, Revan would be more careful.

So it was that he carefully kept his hold on his own emotions, watching with an imperious air as tables were set up and large chunks of roasted meat and various fruits were brought before Revan to sample. He sat at The One's side, feasting as they Rakatans put on a show for them both, performing dances, plays, and even slaying what looked like a very young Rancor for the pleasure of their "honored outsider."

Honestly, he barely tasted the food even though it was the most substantial thing he'd tasted in awhile, barely heard himself even as he praised the savage virtues of The One's people, and was barely aware as he was lead away to a small but clearly finely decorated room. Finally alone after the spectacle, Revan found himself a bit ironically grateful that he could at least stretch his legs out on a Rakatan mattress and stared up at the thatched ceiling that the small room offered.

Outside, he could hear the sounds of the people of this village milling about and wondered to himself what would come with the morning.

Strangely, though he hadn't been able to sleep at all on the Hawk where thoughts of Malachor buffeted his mind like ships slamming into his memories, drawn by the gravitational force of his anguish, here he drifted off relatively easily. He dreamed of nothing, and when he woke, he found that light was trying to penetrate any hole it could in the thatched roof.

Without thinking, letting his feet lead him, Revan left the room he had been given and discovered that he had free reign in the village. There was no incident, no alarm raised, as Revan walked from the walled compound into the humid mists of the early jungle morning and back into his camp, where several members of the crew were arguing loudly with each other, though their words were indistinct.

"I leave for one night and you all start arguing?" Revan asked as he walked into their line of sight, finding himself faced with several different expressions anywhere from blank, to relieved, to absolutely furious. "Wow, I guess you care more than I thought."

"Revan!" Juhani was the first to speak, though she was quickly interrupted by a clearly frustrated Carth.

"This is no time for jokes, Revan. Where were you?" Carth asked -- no, _demanded_ \-- his eyes flashing.

Thankfully, Revan knew Carth well enough by now to know that the stress was just getting to him. There was a time where he might have taken that outburst way more personally than Carth ever intended him to.

Instead of getting mad or allowing himself to be annoyed, Revan just held up his hands defensively and smiled, "It's always the time to joke, Carth, and besides... I was kidnapped by the locals for a night of feasting and drinking. Apparently I'm well known around these parts for promising to kill entire settlements of people. Pretty typical for a day in the life of me."

He dropped his hands back to his sides, everyone stunned into relative silence as he walked farther into their little circle, turning his head to look over his shoulder.

Not waiting for them to comment, Revan continued to speak, "There's a Temple of some sort in this jungle. I have a pretty good idea of where it is, too, I just need someone to head that way with me."

His eyes fell on Juhani and Bindo, who were both staring back at him with immediate understanding, walking towards him.

Straightening, Revan turned his attention to the rest of his wayward band of misfits, cobbled together, he realized with a bit of a start, out of loyalty to _him_. "Mission, Zalbaar, you know your way around a ship. I want you to help Carth and T3 with the repairs," he glanced towards HK and Canderous. "We know we're not alone on this island now, so I want you two to keep your eyes and sensors peeled and keep the perimeter of the camp clear."

Without waiting for a response, Revan turned his back completely on his crew and looked back toward the jungle. For a moment he just stared at it, sensing all the life creeping somewhere deep within it, certain now more than ever that he was on the right path.

"Well," he said to the two Jedi beside him, motioning towards the dimness of their destination, "shall we?"

And without waiting for an answer, he strode off into the tree line.

* * *

There was no conversation during their journey and none at their destination as they found themselves at the zenith of the hill they'd been climbing for several minutes, breaking through the tree line to see not a Temple, but a compound with sturdy stone walls. Immediately, Revan could see their defenses, some kind of ancient device generation a fence of deadly electricity, the careful eyes keeping watch on top of the walls disappearing into the compound a moment after Revan entered the clearing.

Immediately, his stomach sank and he held up his hand, making eye contact with Junani, who had already started to stride forward. He watched the Cathar hesitate, but nod, stepping back so that she was a few paces behind him. Bindo, on his other side, simply crossed his arms over his chest and stared disapprovingly at the gates, his dark eyes just as critical as they always were.

It was a stark contrast to the conversation of the day before, searching for salvage with Mission and Zalbaar, who always seemed to have something to say to him. The Jedi were both quite reserved and both focused on their shared goal, something Revan appreciated in this moment as the gates ground open with the sound of stone on stone and three pale skinned Rakata in white robes approached them.

"Dark Outsider, why have you returned here?" The one in the lead demanded immediately, the black eyes on the sides of his head blazing with what Revan was almost sure was righteous fury. "We saw you treating with the Black Rakata last night and yet you dare to show your face here? Especially after you last betrayed our trust?"

Instinct told Revan to abandon pretense, and so this time, he fell to one knee, clearly taking the speaker and his companions aback. Letting his own grief wash over him, he bowed his head, ignoring the feeling of his companion's eyes on his back as he did so, focusing only on the presence of the Rakata before him.

"I'm sorry, Elder Ones," Revan began. "I don't remember being here before. In fact, I remember nothing of myself at all. I do, however, know what I promised to the Black Rakata and the man I am now..." He took a chance, looking up into their faces, finding them hard to read. "The man I am now would never do what they asked me to."

For a moment, their eyes seemed trained on only them, ignoring even Juhani when she asked Revan what they were saying, her hand straying to the hilt of her saber. It was tense in those moments, the wind rustling the grass on the hilltops the only noise heard before the speaker bid him to stand and Revan rose to his feet.

"I see no deception on your alien features," he declared. "You speak with a candor you did not the last time we met, and there is something in the depths of your eyes that I cannot explain." Slowly, he turned around, then motioned for Revan and his companions to follow. "Come. Let us parley. There is much to discuss... After all, it seems we have information that you may require."

Revan didn't hesitate, though Jolee and Juhani did, their steps quick in pace until they caught up with him.

"What are they saying?" Juhani repeated. "How can you understand them?"

"I have a facility with languages," Revan replied, not entirely truthfully as he ignored Bindo's critical look. "Besides, I've been here before. As for what they're talking about..." Revan said as they passed underneath the shadow of the gate. "Well, I promised another group I'd murder their people the last time I was here, and apparently I also somehow violated their trust. We'll see. It's all still up in the air."

"As usual, your past self proves to be incredibly charming," Bindo said with a snort.

"More charming than _you_ if I was willing and able to play both of the native groups on this island," Revan replied blandly. "Now come on. Let's get this over with."

Ignoring the way Bindo grumbled and muttered something under his breath, Revan allowed himself be ushered further into the depths of the Elder One's compound. He couldn't help but notice how the construction was more solid than that of the Black Rakata, with a more advanced understanding of architecture and engineering, the technology of their gate carried into the inside of the building.

Oddly enough, though, the structure itself seemed more or less abandoned, everyone inside likely locked away within their rooms. Briefly, Revan wondered if it was his fault that they were hiding away and decided it probably was by the time they reached a large room that looked like it had been crafted specifically to hold large group meetings.

The pale Rakata in their lead motioned for them to sit at the large table in the center of the room, so Revan did, Jolee and Juhani following his lead. Sitting at the opposite end of the table, the large alien sat before turning his piercing gaze toward Revan, lacing his long fingers together in front of him as each of his companions took up chairs on either side of him.

"So you remember nothing of your last journey here," he began. "Indeed, the whole quality of your being is different, Outsider. I will give you the information you seek."

Revan waited, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with the Elder Rakata in spite of how badly he wanted to look away and avoid knowing for sure the impact he'd had on these people.

"When you came here five cycles of the seasons ago, you were with another man of your species. The two of you inquired after the Temple and you convinced us to let you inside and bring us the secrets of our ancestors from within," the Rakata explained, spreading his hands before him. "Not only did you not return, but your lies and games set us more at odds than ever with the Black Rakata who share this island with us and placed our people in mortal peril. You took the sacred site of our ancestors for your own and refused to help us recover the secrets of the Great Force, something we know you posses or you would not have been able to enter the Temple in the first place, even with our ritual."

Revan covered his wince by reaching up to rub the back of his neck, taking a deep, steady breath, knowing that what he was about to say next wouldn't exactly be well received, "I'm sorry," he began. "I don't have an excuse for that, and even if I did, it wouldn't matter. It was wrong, unfortunately..." Revan exhaled, closing his eyes as he dropped his hand to the table. "I need to get into that Temple again. It's a matter of life or death for countless members of the military I used to serve."

The other two Rakata, silent until this moment, suddenly began to mutter amongst themselves. He could hear the anxiousness and anger in their voices clearly, even with his eyes closed, surprised when they were suddenly silenced.

Cautiously, Revan opened his eyes, looking into the face of the pale Rakata, who was looking down at him with a very wary but incredibly curious expression somehow written into his features, "And why should we give you a second chance, Dark Outsider?"

Revan wanted to argue that he had changed, but he felt like he owed these people something to make up for the things he had done in the past. Bracing his hands against the wood surface of the table, Revan bowed his head as he stood, gathering his composure. A moment later, he looked into the pale Rakata's face, the words he wanted to say coming to his lips almost unbidden.

"Let me prove I'm worthy," he said in a quiet, resolved voice.

This time, the Rakata exchanged glances quietly.

Silently, the Rakata in the lead stood then slowly nodded, "Very well. As it happens, we have a task for you to accomplish. If you succeed, we will allow into the Temple..." his eyes stayed towards Revan's companions briefly. " ** _Alone_**. The last time you were allowed inside, you corrupted the place and infested it with others of your species. We will not make the same mistake twice."

Without an ounce of hesitation, Revan nodded, not looking over his shoulders towards Juhani and Jolee, both of whom looked disquieted being included in a conversation that they didn't understand.

"Very well," Revan said. "I accept your terms. What is your task?"

The pale Rakata rumbled his approval, sitting back down in his seat, though Revan remained standing, "The One and his Black Rakata have kidnapped one of the younger villagers under our protection in order to force her to give up on the information she possesses. They wish to understand the secrets of our ancestors nearly as much as we do, but they are black souled and corrupt things. They will return Calamity to our people, if they are allowed. She must be rescued."

Revan let the words sink over him slowly, reminding himself that last time he'd made the wrong decision.

It seemed that there was one group here interested in revving the Old Ways as they had once been and another who wanted to recover their past without falling prey to the allure of the Dark Side, as had their ancestors. His actions here would still require a betrayal, of sorts, but it was a betrayal he could live with, even if...

Even if he wished there was a way out of all of the killing.

Funny how last time he had probably done all of this just to get out of having to benefit anyone other than himself and Malak, but this time he wished desperately for an out that didn't involve so much death and bloodshed. Did the Black Rakata themselves really know better when they were under the guidance of The One, who clearly didn't know how to negotiate?

Reavn doubted it.

He also doubted it would matter much to them if he killed their leader.

After all, this place, their way of life, was likely all they'd ever known.

And there was no time to teach them a better way.

Lamenting the loss, Revan swallowed thickly, standing and nodding one last time, "It will be done. I'll go tonight under the cover of darkness and bring her to you."

"May the power of the Ancestors give you strength," the pale Rakata said, bowing his head before he gestured toward the door. "I believe you know the way out?"

Revan inclined his head slightly, turning around and striding away before Juhani or Bindo could likely process what had happened enough to follow him. They must have sensed that he didn't want to talk when they finally did catch up with him, because neither one of them spoke until they were far past the clearing into the jungle, dappled afternoon light breaking through the canopy and covering the ground with patches of warmth.

"So, you have a next step, or are we just going to walk through the jungle until you tell us what we're supposed to be doing?" Bindo asked, annoyance sliding down Revan's back at the words.

"We're going back to camp. Later tonight, I'm going to rescue a member of the Elder Rakata from the Black Rakata..." he looked over his shoulder towards Bindo, who was staring back at him with all the stubbornness of a man well into his seventies reflecting in the depths of his dark eyes. "And I'm doing it alone."

"Alone?" Juhani objected. "Revan, surely you cannot be serious. This world is dangerous. You must feel the molten Darkness surging deep beneath the earth. Do you not fear it?"

"I agree with the lady," Jolee said before Revan could hope to respond. "Not only is it dangerous to go alone, but it's _stupid_. Not that I'm surprised. You've seemed to have a chip on your shoulder ever since you came back from your mission on Korriban."

Revan spun, the words making his annoyance morph into anger.

Inside of him, he could feel his emotion surge, and watched as _both_ Jedi, Bindo's stance of neutrality aside, took a step back from him. With a deep breath, Revan brought his emotions under control, closing his eyes and chanting the first part of the Jedi code like a mantra underneath his breath --

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

Eventually, his heart rate slowed and his anger was placed by something else, something possibly _worse_ \--

A feeling of sharp sadness and a deep sense of betrayal.

"Listen," he began, "you have no idea what _any_ of this like." Revan gestured wildly towards himself before letting his hand fall limply for his side. "I can't do this alone, but right now, the kind of support I need isn't help infiltrating the Black Rakata's camp -- I've liberated planets, lead troops into battle, survived Korriban, all on my own!"  

Turning away, Revan looked into the dense trees and the thick brush, feeling both of their eyes on his back as he lost himself to the overwhelming green around him, letting the Force remind him how _alive_ this world was. It was alive, and bigger than any of them, and he had to do this, had to climb through this tunnel towards the light and bring Bastila back with him.

"I don't need your judgment," he asserted, grinding his teeth together just to listen to them click. "If I wanted that, I'd just wait until we were in orbit again to call up Master Vrook and ask him to remind me of all the horrible things I've done. Right now, what I need from the two of you is support. I need to feel like you have faith that I'm more than the sum of my actions."

For a moment, Revan considered letting the expectations he had for the two of them fall, trying not to pry into their emotions as they reacted to what he said... If they even let him pry into them in the first place. Instead, he listened to the sound of the wind through the trees above them, the distant noise of waves against the shore, and smelled the green decay and the salt of the ocean.

It calmed him.

"I know you're both concerned I'll backslide," Revan said, "and that you both have your own reasons for doing so. I appreciate your friendship and after everything we've been through so far, I don't want to lose sight of that, but right now..."

He exhaled and looked up at a small sliver of blue through the backlit fronds of the palms above him, "I need my friends, not Jedi."

Without saying anything else, not really expecting either of them to respond, Revan forced his eyes forward and continued down his path. All around him, there was tension, a sense of anticipation and destiny weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Scathingly, he found himself thinking that maybe Jolee should try carrying Revan's chip on his shoulder for awhile as he descended deeper into the darkness of the jungle.

He might not be so prone to joke about it anymore, not when it seemed like it might grind Revan to dust beneath it at any moment without anyone to help him carry it.


	37. Part Four; Chapter Thirty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the chapter that is going to mark the beginning of Revan becoming the person he is at the end of the story. 
> 
> We're almost there, folks! One more chapter on this world and then we've finally made it to the Star Forge!

The jungle was even darker at night, but Revan's feet remembered the path. He knew exactly where he was going, guided by the steady sense of foreboding that seemed to spill from the Black Rakata camp, one that grew with every step he took closer to his destination.

No one knew he was out here again, which in retrospect probably wasn't a good idea, all things considered, but he'd much rather do this on his own. If asked why directly, he'd probably say that it was because entering the camp would be easier with one person on their own than with a small group, but Revan knew the truth.

He didn't want anyone in his party to be complicit in this.

He couldn't ask them to follow him into battle when he knew the only way he could make them feel better about it was by lying and saying that the Black Rakata deserved death wholesale.

This was his mistake, and he'd hold the burden for it on his shoulders, just like he was already carrying everything else.

Besides, he asked himself with a wry smile as the compound came into sight, Black Rakata patrolling the grounds, what was one more dark deed compared to the billions of lives he already bore responsibility for?

Quietly, Revan dashed along the tree line, using the cover of darkness to his advantage, coming up on the side of the compound. Hugging himself against the logs Revan looked upward, taking a deep breath before he channeled the Force into his jump, landing nearly silently on the other side.

Glancing around, Revan quickly realized he was in a relatively open part of the compound that he recognized from his guarded trip through it. For a moment, he stood, listening for footsteps, which he heard padding against the ground somewhere in the distance, before he moved, careful to dart from shadow to shadow so that he was less likely to be seen.

If he was caught, an alarm would be raised and every Rakata in the place would know he was here. Revan hoped he was fortunate enough to step in, kill The One quickly, rescue the prisoner, and have this somehow not blamed on the Elder Ones in spite of it occurring to him that it would be extremely likely that that's exactly what would happen.

Stilling the shaking in his hands, Revan barely had time to think when a pair of footsteps grew louder and he hugged himself to the side of a wall to avoid being seen. Thankfully for him, the Rakata didn't seem to have any better vision in the dark than he did, and certainly their other senses would be dulled without the Force.

Waiting for the vague shape in the darkness to pass, Revan dashed from the shadows as swiftly as he could manage vaulting over a gate and landing on the other side. Looking around, Revan found himself just before the rickety bridge, hidden in the long darkness just before the room opened up into The One's massive arena. As expected, there The One sat on his throne, looking out at his realm with his black eyes shining like pools of ink in the torchlight, his dark form nearly invisible on his throne.

Steeling himself, Revan called on the depths of his own resolve, feeling his chest swell with the same certainty he always felt during this situations. Reaching down to his hips Revan stroked the hilts of both his sabers, the one he'd constructed on Dantooine and the one he'd discovered on Korriban, thoughtfully with his thumbs.

Narrowing his eyes, he stepped onto the bridge, igniting one saber and then the other as he strode forward, the blades reflected on the surface of The One's moat like the glowing eyes of some beast.

Slowly, The One stood, his eyes flash with rage as he reached for the wicked long vibroblade leaning against his throne. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, his voice echoing loudly enough that someone in the compound must have heard.

Revan didn't answer.

Launching himself into the air as he lashed out with the red lightsaber in his left hand, watching as The One raised his vibroblade to defend, shocked when it withstood the blow. He spared no time to think about it, however, backstepping to avoid The One's arm as he screamed in rage and attempted to grab Revan.

Gracefully, Revan weaved to the right, watching The One follow him with his eyes... And this his blade. His lips curved into a smile, Revan changed his direction and moved suddenly to his left, arcing the saber in his right hand down hard on The One's shoulder.

There was a scream of pain and the sound of horns from the entrance to the room, echoing across the hilled slopes of the jungle island. On the ground, The One's armed writhed as the black skinned Rakata, fueled by his rage, launched himself at Revan.

The pale yellow rims of his irises burning like a corona in the darkness, Revan dismissed the saber in his left hand, stretching out his fingers as he grasped The One with the Force. A moment later, the Rakata's body was flying through the air like it was a doll made of straw, hitting the wall with a sickening crack and sliding to the ground, red blood pooling around his form as Revan turned his attention to his other assailants.

Much like their leader, their rage only seemed to fuel them and they charged, roaring at him, their blades gleaming in the darkness. Turning his head, Revan reached out with the Force and opened two of the gates to unleash the beasts within, the eyes of the wildlife immediately turning towards the creatures who seemed to be rushing them.

Teeth and blades met in a clash and Revan began to systematically open the gates one by one, many of them empty, others filled with more beasts to add to the fray. Finally, Revan happened upon his Elder Rakata, a woman with pale red skin who looked up at him with shock in her black eyes.

Dismissing his lightsaber, Revan held out his hand to her and offered her a smile.

For a moment she hesitated but she quickly reached up, taking his hand and letting him pull her to his feet. With a smile, Revan turned his attention to one of the torches as he wrapped an arm around her body and pulled her closer, feeling her arms immediately wrap around his neck, though she was at _least_ a head taller than he was.

"Hold on and don't look down if you're afraid of heights," he muttered, focusing his thoughts on the torch, reaching out his hand to will the fire to grow _hotter_ , **brighter** , **_larger._**

A moment later, the wall next to it caught fire, the dead wood of the wall igniting easily even in the humid heat of the jungle. Turning his eyes upward, Revan jumped high into the air, launching himself over the outer wall and into the jungle outside, setting the woman down on the ground beside him.

"Come on," he said, motioning for her to follow. "There's no telling how long it will take for them to put out that fire and corral those beasts. We'd better hurry and get you back to your people."

Immediately the confusion in her face cleared and she nodded, the two of them setting off together through the darkness. It left Revan feeling grateful that he didn't have much time think about what had just transpired and could focus easily on his next task -- Getting her back to her people.

He did vaguely wonder what would happen to the Black Rakata, whether or not any of them had even gotten a good enough look at him to recognize what he had done. Especially with the fire burning away the evidence, there might be little for them to go on and they might attribute it all to something else, something that might not end up being the Elder Rakata in the end.

And even if they did, without The One their attacks might be disjointed at best and ineffectual, at worst.

It would be fine.

That was what he kept telling himself, and what he continued to tell himself as they climbed upwards and broke the tree line and found themselves standing before the compound of the Elder Ones. Immediately, the guard on top of the wall let out a shout of joy as the woman broke out into a run ahead of him. Slowly, the gates opened, and on the other side several Rakata were waiting for her with open arms, pulling her against them.

He couldn't hear what they were saying from here, but he knew it was joyful just from the sounds of their voices. Their laughter and cries echoed over the hills through the night, leaving Revan standing on the edge of their reunion, his arms crossed over his chest as a smile played at his lips.

Eventually the woman he had saved looked over to him, motioning for him to come nearer, so Revan did... Though reluctantly. He didn't feel like he really belonged here, until the woman wrapped an arm around his shoulder and dragged him forward towards the Compound.

"Come," she said to him, and he realized it was the first time he'd heard her speak. "Stay the night! Celebrate with us!"

"I--" he began, but looking into her face, he found himself unable to refuse. "Of course. Lead the way."

For the second time in two days, Revan found himself at a Rakata party, though this one was significantly different. It was less of a spectacle, for one, and though the food wasn't as plentiful, it was shared like it was being shared among friends and family. More than a feast, it reminded him of sharing meals with his friends aboard the Hawk and suddenly he felt sad and nostalgic.

He wished they were here and wondered at his own recent trend of doing everything alone.

In the beginning it had been so easy to rely on them, but ever since he had discovered he was Revan he'd felt like the rift had grown. There was no doubt that they still cared about him, but now they saw him as _Revan_ when he still saw himself as... _himself_.

Even if his relationship to himself had changed, it wasn't quite the same thing.

At the core of his being, though he'd become a more reserved and melancholy person, there was still much of him that was exactly as it had always been -- strong willed, silver tongued, and observant with a fiery streak. It was impossible for him to be anything else other than himself, but they saw him in part _as the things he had done_ now, which made him feel...

It made him feel so _isolated_.

And in a weird way being _here_ , where people only treated him with such closeness because they had no context for who he really was, only served to emphasize that.

Eventually, the party died down, leaving Revan to wonder the compound until he found himself on the roof. There, he stared out at the shape of the Temple and thought about how he'd be going there again tomorrow, this place that looked eerie in the moonlight, rising high above the jungle, its shape dark and imposing against the moon.

The smell of smoke was on the air, a breeze rustling Revan's robes as he reached up to stroke his chin thoughtfully, leaning out over the guard wall to stare into the distance, where he imagined the beach to be. He wondered if they had realized he was gone yet, and if they had, surely Jolee and Juhani had told them what had happened and where he was. Vaguely, he felt bad for maybe worrying them, but...

Well, in this case, it really was better for him to go it alone.

"You are a very solitary creature," came a voice from behind Revan, his hands momentarily gripping the edge of the wall as he reached out with his senses, assuaging his own worries when he realized that it was simply the white Rakata from before. "Even though I know some part of you shares in our joy, you are still so distant. Do the burdens of your own past weigh on you?"

Revan closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as he worried his hands in front of him, running his calloused fingers over the ridges of his knuckles, "Is it that obvious?"

"You have very loud emotions," the Rakata told him. "I believe the first time you came to us, this is something you were aware of and used it to your advantage. Now, you are simply adrift in the ocean of your own feelings, like debris caught in a riptide."

Revan smiled, focusing on the sound of the Rakata's purring voice, oddly gentle and understanding in spite of the mistrust it had been laden with that morning. "That's an apt description," Revan said. "I've done horrible things and I don't know how to be at peace with them... Or with the way that other people see me as a result."

"That is always difficult," said the old Rakata after a moment of pause, the sound of his footsteps letting Revan know that he didn't stand alone any longer, joined at the edge of the wall, "And though you may not believe me, it is something with which my people are familiar."

Cracking open his eyes, Revan looked up into that alien face, finding the man staring off toward the Temple as he himself had been only moments before. He looked pale and unworldly in the grey-yellow light of the moon, his features standing in stark relief with that of The One's, as if the darkness couldn't dream of touching him.

"We do not remember who our ancestors were, only that they committed horrible atrocities, things that we cannot possibly understand the reasoning for," the old man explained, grasping the wall with his wizened fingers, his only real sign of age. "Sometimes, we fear that it is our nature to be evil, that the absence of the Force and these memories is the only thing that prevents us from being truly wicked."

Revan's eyes widened and he looked away, first towards the temple, then towards his own hands. For a moment, he was caught in an overwhelming torrent of memories, recent ones, of times he'd felt overwhelmed by the weight of his own powers and the fate that they brought with them.

The sound of his own lightsabers seemed to fill his ears until the Rakata's voice cut through them, drifting gentle but firm on the winds.

Revan blinked back tears.

"And yet we are not evil now, which tells us that power may not be a choice, but what we do with that power _is_. There is no guarantee that our ancestor's began as monsters, no promise that the blackness did not infest them the more and more of their sins they justified," the Elder said as he pointed up towards the sky and the Star Forge. "That remains as our constant reminder of what we once were and the folly that comes with the irresponsible use of power. If we were to become powerful again, it would serve equally as a warning to use that power in the service of that which is good and great."

Unable to speak, Revan stared at the Star Forge, his voice caught like a stone in his throat, one that he tried to swallow past but found himself unable to. His hands shook, but for once he didn't try to still them, letting the shaking extend up his arms until his entire body trembled underneath the emotions he never fully let himself feel.

His knees grew weak under the weight of everything he had been carrying, and he wasn't sure if he could carry it anymore.

"Sometimes, the things our ancestors have done are unfathomable to us, as distant from our lives as I am sure ours are from yours, but other times it feels they color everything we do," said the old man in that gentle voice of his, the only thing Revan could grasp in this moment, when even the stone seemed like it might fall out from beneath his feet. "And yet, if there is one thing I have learned, it is that those things may have some impact upon the decisions we must make as people, but they do not define us. Power remains a choice, which means we can choose differently, no matter what those who came before us may have chosen before, and even if we must live with the consequences of their choices for the rest of our lives."

Revan hit the ground as his knees buckled beneath him, finally collapsing onto the ground after what seemed like months of holding everything inside of him, though it had really only been a few weeks. Like a flood his tears came, a pit of shame welling up in his stomach, but he didn't have the energy to hide his face from the Rakata.

Instead, he watched his tears beat the stone, leaving dark, wet patches on the ground, his fingers and hands still shaking but blurred by his obscured vision.

Choking on his own sobs, his regret, his guilt, the utter _self-loathing_ he had been repressing rose up like dark shadows. There was nothing comforting about their presence, as familiar as they were, old companions constantly reminding him how little he was worth outside of his abilities, leaving Revan with the realization that this hallow feeling in his chest, this gaping wound in his psyche, was not quite as recent as he'd first thought.

It was old, ripped into him deeper with every bit of double edged praise coupled with a snide remark about pride or a lack of control, shaming him for something he couldn't control without hurting himself. And now he was doing what he had always done, what he had even done as Darth Revan, pushing this emotions back and letting them hurt him more and more because he couldn't afford to be weak, not now, not when there was so much at stake.

But would the Galaxy ever be safe?

Would it ever _not_ need him?

Killing Malak and destroying the Star Forge wouldn't end the Sith, no matter what the Jedi and Republic might think, because the Sith was a _belief_ , a pervasive one... One that people like Yuthara and Lashowe took strength and comfort from. He'd made himself into a weapon for the Galaxy and unless he said no, that was what he would always be, until his hands were old and arthritic and he could no longer hold his lightsaber properly.

But how could he say no when, in many cases, he was the only one capable of doing these things? When the Galaxy would fall to chaos and ruin if he didn't utilize the gifts he had been given and follow his instincts?

For a single moment, the overwhelming grief that subsumed him, this cycle of endless give and take, the Jedi and the Sith both ripping parts off of him until there was nothing left but a broken amnesiac crying atop an alien fortress, felt like an apt punishment.  

And then a pair of gentle, cool fingers grasped his face and began to wipe away his tears, reminding Revan that he wasn't alone as he was enfolded in the Rakata's arms. All Revan could do was grasp onto the alien's shoulders and take in the sensation of gentle reassurance as the old man held him, making him feel like the child he highly suspected he'd never really been allowed to be.

"When you reach the edge of your tolerance and finally plummet to the abyss, you learn that you can always climb back up," the Rakata muttered soothingly. "I doubt you will ever be free of the scars and consequences of whatever burden you bear, but perhaps you can learn to be a better man than you were. You are not defined only by the things you _have_ done, but by the things you will _choose_ to do."

Unbidden, Revan thought of all the people he had helped on various worlds -- Iziz the Jawa, the Wookies of Kashyyyk, Sahsa and her father, and the spirit of Ajunta Pall. He thought of the people of Dantooine, of the citizens of Taris, and realized that he'd done what he could to do right by all of them.

Even if he'd had no context he'd chosen differently than he had last time, and he could continue to do so, with or without his memories.

And he didn't have to choose it because it's what the Jedi would want from him, either.

He could do it just because he wanted to, because through all the bureaucratic nonsense the Republic and Jedi put him through, through all the torture and obfuscation of the Sith, Revan still had something to hold onto. There were people who needed him, and no matter his method, he wouldn't fail those people.

He wouldn't fail Bastila.

Slowly, he pulled away from the Elder Rakata, taking a deep breath as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve, "If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to stay here tonight. Whatever I face in that temple, whatever part of my past or future shows up to haunt me, I'd like some time to prepare for it alone, and your people... I trust them to leave me alone."

The white Rakata nodded quietly, straightening himself and offering Revan his hand. Taking it, Revan found himself hoisted to his feet, the moon sinking slowly in the night sky behind them, nearly lost in the trees.

"We can grant you a place to rest for tonight. Tomorrow, at dawn light, we will go together and prepare the ritual," he reached out, placing a hand on Revan's shoulder. "Take strength, young man. I have seen both you and the person you once were, and your heart is no longer a dark one. Your conflict, your anger and pain, are no reason to fear, for your soul is undoubtedly one of light."

He pulled away, leaving Revan to contemplate his words for the few moments it took him to travel back into the compound. Rubbing the back of his neck, Revan exhaled and, for once in his life, let something other than criticism take root deep in his heart.

Something that soon bloomed into hope.

* * *

Revan woke next morning to the sound of voices outside of the compound, a few of them quite loud and familiar. Slowly, he sat up, wondering if he was imagining them before he realized he very likely wasn't, slammed his arms back into his robe without properly bothering to tie it, and ran out the door of his room with lightsabers in hand.

Sure enough, in the dawn mist stood Jolee, Juhani, and Carth, talking to one of the gate guards who wouldn't let them inside. The moment they saw Revan, their faces each took on a different expression, Juhani one of relief, Carth one of relief mixed with annoyance, and Jolee his typical mask of annoyed indifference.

Immediately, he cut them off before they could say anything, tying his robe shut as he did so, "I don't need to be accounted for at all hours of the day and night. I had something to take care of so I took care of it, and I didn't want to involve any of you in something that might turn out to be a massacre." His eyes fell on Jolee specifically for half a second, "Contrary to consensus, I am an adult capable of understanding cause and effect, not a child who needs to be under constant supervision."

"We were worried," Carth said seriously. "This is the second night in a row you haven't been in camp when I've woken up, and here I find out the Jedi knew where you were all along and were keeping secrets from us!" He motioned vaguely to Jolee and Juhani, who didn't look in the least bit guilty. "I insisted on coming with them just so I could tell Mission that I saw you with my own eyes."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Revan met Carth's eyes and then nodded, somehow reminded that, in spite of everything, Carth somehow thought of him as a person instead of... Well.

_Revan._

"I'm sorry," he said as he looked out toward the Temple. "I should have told the rest of you what I was doing and why I needed to do it alone. I won't..." He hesitated briefly, wondering what he could possibly promise that was _reasonable_. "I won't go making those sorts of decisions without informing everyone again."

He visibly saw Carth relax, his tension replaced with a smile, though a small one, "Good," he said. "Though to be perfectly fair to you, you're not the only one who needs to learn to communicate better," his eyes strayed toward the Jedi again.

Revan's did, too.

"I am also sorry," Juhani said, bowing her head toward Carth. "I returned to camp and was overwhelmed with a great tiredness. I did not even think to tell you what Revan might be doing at the time." She breathed a sigh, her yellow eyes finding Revan once more. "Which is why I am here now. Revan... As someone who considers herself your friend... I wish to go into the Temple with you."

Revan hesitated, looking back toward the compound, then back towards Juhani, "I promise them I would go alone, and they have good reason to want that." He searched her face, his eyes finding determination in her expression as much as in the line of her shoulders, realizing that Bindo looked much the same.

Rubbing his hand along the back of his neck, Revan heaved a heavy sigh, "You have a reason. A Force related reason."

"I had a vision that you were in pain," Juhani said emphatically, stepping forward to reach out and grasp his arm, "and that you needed my help. You were there for me when I needed you most. I do not wish to abandon you now in your hour of need."

Quietly, Revan covered her hand with his own, looking into her face once more before he nodded, "Though I'm not the one you'll have to convince. I don't want to betray their trust, Juhani. Not this time." He closed his eyes and pulled away, "They deserve better."

Especially after showing such kindness toward him last night.

She nodded, then looked toward Bindo, who was already staring at Revan.

"And you?" Revan asked. "What's your reason for contributing to the biggest communication blunder of the last few months?"

"I told you," he said, "I'm here to observe, not interfere. What you decided to do was your choice and I didn't see the need to involve anyone without your permission."

Revan didn't mention that Jolee had told him about Carth's conversation with Republic High Command, figuring that the old man had his reasons... Reasons Revan doubted he would ever understand. Apparently, he felt compelled to watch this entire thing unfold, something that spoke of the hand of the Force. It was why Revan didn't feel compelled to interfere, even if he was coming to the decision that his respect for Jolee Bindo's wisdom didn't necessarily mean he had to like him as a person.

It was hard to like someone when they gave you the impression that they were only with you to make sure you didn't mess up the cosmic balance of the Force, after all.

"And let me guess," Revan said, "you want to come, too, because you had a similar vision."

"I had a vision that implied you were going to face your ultimate trial in that Temple," Bindo replied seriously, crossing his arms over his chest. "I said I would be there to see what happened.. I don't intend to abandon you now."

Revan's eyes strayed back toward the Temple, and he smiled ruefully, "So you can lead the viper away from the villagers?"

"So I can see whether or not the viper is going to turn its ornery head on the wrong target or not."

"Considering that I have full control of my own faculties and _choice_ of my own target..." Revan muttered, his eyes falling on the very confused Carth, offering him a shrug even as worry began to constrict around his heart.

Both Juhani and Bindo's visions were a cause for concern.

They meant that, whatever Revan had faced on Korriban, he might face something even worse inside the Temple. He wasn't looking forward to finding out what it was, but he had to push forward and trust in the Will of the Force.

And his own ability to choose correctly.

"Carth, can you do me a favor and go let everyone know I'm okay? I'm heading to disable the gravitational generator this morning," he said, eyes still trained on the Temple, hoping that they could move quickly enough to prevent this planet from becoming another Malachor V.

"I can do that," Carth said. "We're finish up repairs on the ship, so it should be ready to fly by the time you get back."

Both of their eyes strayed to the Star Forge, hanging in orbit, its black metal more ominous against the bright and cloudless blue sky than it had ever been at night.

"Soon," Revan said, his head snapping towards the compound's entrance as several pale skinned Rakata in flowing robes exited the building.

In their lead was the old Rakata, who exchanged a long, meaningful look with Revan before turning his _own_ attention to the Temple, "Are your allies here for support?"

Revan hesitated for a moment, realizing he could very easily respond that they _were_ only here for support, that he had the power to bar them from the Temple, but...

"No," he said. "One of them is going to go back to the beach to try to fix our ship, but the other two are like me." He looked toward Juhani and Bindo pointedly, "Force Sensitive. They had a vision that I would meet something dangerous and potentially horrible and request that they be allowed to accompany me."

The Elder Rakata looked deeply bothered by his request, muttering amongst themselves, but Revan pressed onward before they could come to a judgment. If the Force was involved, it was important that they be allowed with him, even if...

Even if he understood why he might ultimately end up going alone.

"Please," he said, looking directly toward the white Rakata. "I know that I betrayed you in the past, but this is about a vision they had. I don't intend to betray you, and you have my word I will do everything in my power to bring you what artifacts and knowledge I can from the Temple, but please..." He held his head high, standing with every bit of dignity he could still muster. "This is the Will of the Force."

The white Rakata looked at him for a moment, then held up a hand, silencing those behind him, "You showed me your vulnerability, Sorrowful One." Revan winced at the name, but continued to listen. "I believe you, and as an extension, your companions, when you speak of Destiny. Come, this is not a pleasing turn of circumstances, but it may be a necessary one. We must hurry and complete the ritual."

Revan, the Jedi, and the Rakata began their trek towards the Temple. It was at least a half hour's journey on foot, but when they did eventually break the tree line once more, it was worth it, not only because the summit of the hill provided an excellent view of the entire island, but because the Temple itself was oddly beautiful.

It had the same geometric design as the Star Forge but was much older in construction, a relic of the time before the Rakata had developed space flight. Roughly pyramidal in shape, its grey stone was covered in moss, and before it spread a ruined pavilion, where the Elder Rakata formed a circle and began to chant.

At once, it seemed the current in the air changed, the warm breeze picking up and swirling around them, and it was then that Revan saw the gate of purple energy before the door shimmer into existence. He watched, feeling the Force work through mechanisms he couldn't quite understand as locks he hadn't noticed blossomed into sight only to glow brighter and brighter until each shattered with a loud crash that rolled down the hillside. In their wake, the door melted away, violet energy vanishing as it flowed down the front steps.

"You must hurry, Sorrowful One," came the voice of the white Rakata, off to his left. "The door is only open for a few moments."

Briefly, Revan turned his attention towards the old Rakata, meeting his eyes as one last flash of understanding passed between the two of them. Revan nodded once, then smiled, rushing towards the steps, Juhani and Bindo right behind him.

Without hesitation, Revan stepped through the doorway, letting the feeling of long dormant darkness wash over him as he steeled himself for whatever was to come.


	38. Part Four; Chapter Thirty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the end of the road. 
> 
> There's probably about three chapters left at this point, guys. 
> 
> How do you feel?
> 
> Because I'll tell you what, I can't actually believe it.

 

The eerie feeling in the Temple was pervasive, Revan found himself thinking, like the building was so hungry and lonely that it would do almost anything to trap them inside forever. It was different than the prideful nature of the Sith, than their refusal to die, less the hunger to live again than a hunger simply to be comforted in death.

There was no denial of morality here, reminding Revan once more of the multifaceted nature of the Dark Side of the Force.

How many ways, he wondered, were there to Fall?

As many as there were Sith and Dark Jedi, at least.

It was a pervasive thought, one that haunted him, one that he sensed very much was not there entirely of his own making, like the Temple itself was affecting the way he thought. And that would make a certain amount of sense, Revan realized as he took a sharp left, listening to the sounds of his footfalls, walking the long way towards the bottom floor.

This entire world was bringing up questions, and he knew already that the Dark Side amplified your doubts and insecurities, and your secret desires, a thousand times over. It made sense that his feelings would be reflected back at him, especially when he had more important things on his mind...

Like trying to get to the roof.

"Do you think there are any more Sith lurking in the shadows here?" Juhani asked, though he wasn't entirely sure if she was asking him or Bindo.

"There are Sith lurking everywhere here," Bindo replied with a snort, regardless of whether or not the question was for him. "Can't you feel them? They're a dime a dozen."

"I'm more worried about the droids," Revan admitted. "People are easy to kill, droids... Well, especially unfamiliar droids... They're a bit more problematic."

"I don't see what's so problematic about droids," Bindo replied. "Cut off their heads and their processing power is caput."

"If they're constructed like HK and T3," Revan turned a corner, and low and behold -- droids. "These? These are giant shorecrab monstrosities."

Revan pulled his saber from his side, igniting it, the noise causing the two droids at the end of the hallway to turn to him. They were massive, with shining jet chassis and glowing, red optical sensors walking on four massive  legs that could shoot lasers and missiles at will.

 _Bisect them_ , came the advice from somewhere deep in his mind. _You learned their schematics just in case they ever turned on you._

Revan was suddenly glad he was apparently such a methodical person.

Leaping forward, brandishing his saber in his left hand, for once, he went for one of the legs of the droids, slicing if off neatly. There was a hiss and a sizzle, and then the sound of wires snapping and shorting, followed by the hum of a charging laser canon as the second droid fired at him.

Diving behind the first droid, Revan saw Juhani leap past him, on the opposite side of the spasaming three legged droid he was crouched behind, "Bisect them, Juhani!" he shouted to her as the droid in front of him began to charge its lasers.

This time, Revan jumped straight into the air, bracing his hand on the ceiling and using the leverage to angle himself downward so that he stood on top of the droid. It tried to buck him off, but with only three of its legs, it mostly just wailed and beeped, three legs skittering on the ground as a result of its lost balance.

A moment later, Revan's saber had plunged into the top of its head, leaving Revan to open the droid like it was a can of preserves. The droid screeched, but its screech shorted out, growing lower in pitch until the droid stopped moving and collapsed onto the ground with a large thud. In front of him, Juhani sliced her droid into neat halves with surgical precision after avoiding the swipe of one of its massive arms, Bindo, who had just disabled a pair of turrets, walking up behind them.

"I see what you mean," Bindo said, looking at the smoking wrecks of both droids. "They're a pain in the back, even if you know how to disable them."

"You didn't disable either of them, Old Man," Juhani said, her voice playful, her eyes sparkling. "Though I do think resistance means it is likely we are on the right track to the control room."

"I hope so. We know the gravitational generator is on the roof, so hopefully..." Revan trailed off, something suddenly tugging at the edge of his consciousness, a familiar sensation.

Reaching up, his train of thought scattered, Revan ran his hand over the front of his head, brow furrowing deeply as he tried to recover. The need to get to the roof was suddenly palpable, a desire that burned deep inside of him, more instinct than cogent thought, a need that was making his legs as restless as his mind was cloudy.

"Revan?" Juhani asked, her gentle touch on his back sending a surge of annoyance through him, one he fought down, embracing her concern instead.

"Sorry," he said, pulling away and straightening himself as he realized he was leaning against the wall. "I think the Temple is just messing with me a bit. I'll be fine if we hurry up and get to the roof so we can get out of here."

Juhani did not look entirely convinced, and Bindo even less so, but neither of them objected to what he was saying, instead following him through the winding hallways of the Temple.

It was a fairly big place, too -- Not that the fact was particularly surprising, really. The Rakata didn't seem to do anything small, if the Star Forge was any indication. Instinct and muted memories told him that he had once been an expert on the Infinite Empire, and that much of the information he was seeking was stored in this Temple...

Information he would give to the Elder Rakata once he left this place, the first real step towards making the amends and reparations he needed to make to these people. It was just like the Star Forge was his first step towards making amends with the rest of the Galaxy.

Here, in the Temple, here, in this lost sector of the Galaxy, where everything started was where everything would end.

Their journey resumed, the three Jedi making quick work of the Droids and Sith guards within, eventually finding their way down into the depths of the basement. Here, it was dark, like the catacombs of the Sith tombs, and to Revan it was just as nostalgic.

There was little of the associated pain, just a sense of wonder as he walked up to the computer terminal, greeted by a voice that echoed through the dark room around them, suddenly setting the walls aglow with bright blue Rakatan script.

"Master Jorren Ollus," said the voice, making Revan's back go suddenly ramrod straight, reaching up to touch his head again as the name slid into place as undoubtedly _his_. "You have returned. It has been approximately one-thousand and twenty-two days since your last visit."

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to visit again," Revan said absently, Juhani and Jolee looking confused as they ever did when he spoke fluent Rakatan to the natives and their ancient computer devices. "I've been a bit under the weather, you see. It's... It's good to be back."

"I am sorry for the poor turn in your health," said the computer in a pleasant, genuine, purring voice. "I hope that your health soon returns to optimal functioning levels. Is there anything I can do to assist you?"

Again, Revan thought about the roof, about the gravitational generator there, and nodded, realizing a moment later that the computer couldn't see him doing so. Taking a deep breath, a bit amused at his own blunder, Revan spoke, "Of course. I need you to unlock the door to the roof. I also need you to make a copy of any historical data on your systems. I need to study it to make sure that my Empire isn't following the same trends that destroyed the Rakata."

There was a soft whirring noise as the computer processed his requests, and Revan waited, filled with the odd sensation that there were four people in the room rather than three. Perhaps the AI on Kashyyyk had once been like this one, an advanced artificial personality given life by the hyper advanced technology of the ancient aliens. It reminded Revan that even a society built on the Dark Side could build wonders, be those wonders intricate and complex tombs constructed to last tens of thousands of years, or AI so advanced that it continued to function long after the civilization that it had constructed vanished into history with almost no trace.

Wonders and beauty weren't the sole purview of the Jedi and the Republic, were had proven just as capable of wreaking havoc and doing wrong, if Manaan was any real indication.

"You are very wise, as always, Master Ollus," said the computer, a small disk popping out of a slot on its front, the small noise making Revan jump as he was pulled from his thoughts. "I would like to see your Empire avoid eating itself in competition over the Infinite Engine, as my former Masters did."

The comment struck Revan ironic, reaching out to take the small disk from the machine, tucking it into one of the small pouches on his utility belt. Isn't that exactly what the Empire was doing, in a way? The two heads of its former leadership about to meet and duel one another for the right to decide the fate of the Galaxy?

It was a bit different than a Dark Side fueled Civil War, but...

Revan reached out, rubbing the back of his neck, thinking about Malak, sick guilt and resolve eating away at his stomach like an acid. He gripped one edge of the terminal with his other hand, attempting to gather his bearings, his mind fluctuating through the barely remembered searing, screaming pain of his near fiery death and Alek's -- _Alek's_ \-- smile, laughing at some joke, clasping Revan too-hard on the back.

 _Should_ he hate Malak?

Probably, yes.

Not only had he made Revan's own life a living hell, but he'd taken away Bastila, the thought making Revan's stomach churn as he considered all the torture techniques Malak might have used to break her.

 _Did_ he hate Malak?

No.

No, he didn't think he did.

There was anger there, but...

Well, without him, would Alek ever have become Malak in the first place?

"I have unlocked the door to the roof, Master," said the mechanical voice, Revan blinking off the thoughts he found himself trapped deeply inside. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No thank you," Revan replied. "I'll be taking my leave now."

The computer did not respond, but the blue began to systematically fade from the walls, leaving Revan standing in the darkness with Bindo and Juhani once more, Juhani's reflective eyes the only real source of light save for that which came from the entrance. Looking between them, Revan walked forward, motioning for them to follow, a sudden sense of excitement mounting inside of him with each step.

He didn't know why he felt that way, only that they would soon be getting off of this planet, that this might all come to a head soon. It wasn't a good feeling of excitement, really, just anticipation that crawled along the back of his neck like a kinrath, where it settled, not even broken by the inevitable flow of conversation.

"I take it this means we're heading toward the roof?" Bindo asked. "Funny, that was a lot less trying than I thought it would be."  
"I agree," Juhani replied. "The Temple was filled with many physical challenges, but not many of a spiritual nature. I admit, I was expecting something more along the lines of what I faced in the Sacred Grove on Dantooine."

Before Revan could even hope to respond, Bindo beat him to it, "Eh. It's not like it's over yet, and anyways, this isn't our trial. It has to be something that tempts our fearless leader."

Those words gave Revan a momentary pause, his brows furrowing as he rounded a corner back towards the entrance of the Temple, and thus the stairwell to the next level, looking Bindo in the eyes, "You think it's going to be a temptation?"

For some reason, the idea was surprising to him.

If he were going to face a temptation, he thought he would have faced it on Korriban, where everything was crying for him to Fall back to the Dark Side, to do things the easy way, to take shortcuts and make moral compromises.

"What else could it be?" Bindo asked, and Revan realized the truth to what the old man was saying. "In order to Fall again, wouldn't you need to _want_ to? Maybe despair works for Juhani, and it would probably work for me, but you don't really strike me as the "I'm going to fall to the Darkness because of despair" type, kid."

Korriban had never made him want the Dark Side again. It had made him afraid of those parts of himself, and fear, the fear of himself, was a compelling motivator to the exact opposite of whatever he was afraid of. He could overcome it for the sake of what he felt was right, as he had in the depths of the ocean or against the Krayt Dragon, but... But it was hardly going to make him go running back into the arms of the Darkness like he had never left.

"You're right," Revan muttered. "It's not over it. I'd have to want it. Whatever I'm going to face... It's going to have to make me really want to go back to the Sith, to my Empire."

The thought chilled him, his mind whirring with the possibilities as he wondered exactly _what_ could make him want to go back. It wasn't power, and, well, if Revan had ever had his reasons for doing the things he did, he certainly didn't remember them. And yet, he did feel himself compelled towards the top of the Temple and his destiny, almost wanting to face it, desiring to know what it was... Perhaps to satiate more than his own curiosity, but the nagging sensation of otherness that had been draped over his shoulders since he'd entered this place.

As they approached the stairs, scaling them one at the time, the tension and anxiety inside of Revan mounted, his mind sorting through a million different possibilities, unable to find even one.

At least, until he walked through the large gates and onto the roof itself, where he saw a form as intimately familiar to him as his own hands.

She was sitting on top of a shuttle, one leg crossed over the other, her pale skin and dark hair somehow set off by the simple, black robes that draped over her form. She must have heard them enter, or otherwise felt his presence, because when he stepped over the threshold of the door and onto the roof, she looked up at him with eyes the color of a sunset and _smiled_.

"Revan," she greeted, and suddenly all the strange, unfamiliar things he'd been feeling since he'd entered the Temple made sense... If only in the context of their Bond.

Her emotions, they were... She had been...

"Bastila," he breathed, the pieces falling into place, everything making some sick sense as she walked toward him, moving in a way that stirred something deep inside of him and froze him in place at the same time. "You... You..."

She laughed, stopping just out of his reach, looking up into his face with the slightest of smiles turning up her full lips, "Malak sent me here to kill you, you realize," she said conversationally. "I thought, however, that I would test your resolve first. Perhaps a duel?"

He almost objected, but something glinted deep in her eyes and he found himself looking behind him to find Juhani and Jolee stuck behind some kind of energy wall that she had apparently triggered without him noticing. Hearing the sounds of her saberstaff activating, Revan's head snapped back toward her and he took a step back, feeling her intentions radiating across their Bond like molten fire.

Playfulness.

Aggression.

He swallowed and reached for his own saber.

"This won't be fatal," she said as his thumb hovered over his activation plate, violet saber blade springing into existence. "In fact, consider it an experiment."  

"Experiment?" his voice cracked on the last syllable just as she lunged at him, moving so close to him that he could feel her body heat radiating across the distance between them.

Swiftly, he brought up his saber to block the blow, locking eyes with her as she smiled serenely up into his face, but with a confidence she had never before carried. All of the affected Jedi arrogance was gone, replaced by an intentionality and an understanding of her physical form that she had never possessed before.

It certainly would make her a better combatant, he realized as she pushed back at swiped at his feet, forcing him to jump her blow just as she brought her saberstaff back to swing at him again, spinning it swiftly in her hands. His breath hitched as she immediately charged him again, and he dodged left, barely aware of the sounds of Juhani and Jolee shouting at one another as they tried to disable the shields Bastila had trapped them behind.

He had never felt so much like another being's play thing in his entire life.

"You still fight well," she said, "and with an instinct I don't think Malak realizes you posses."

Once more, Bastila drove forward, and this time Revan responded with more aggression, meeting her and locking their blades, staring down into her face, "I'm not a helpless child," he told her. "Though apparently, either are you."

Bastila laughed, the sound still playful, somehow, as she pushed him backward with a burst of power from the Force, "You never saw me as a _child_ , Revan," she said in a voice as low and purring as the Rakata, so sultry that he had to tell himself his face was flushing from the physical exertion. "Malak does, of course, but he also sees you as weak when we both know that's not true. You're simply out of touch with your true self."

Revan didn't say anything, watching as she leaped into the air, arching gracefully toward his undefended left flank. Reaching down, Revan pulled the Sith saber from his side, igniting it to block her blow, her smile practically audible even before he saw it on her lips.

"My true self?" he asked. "You think getting hit on the head would reset me to factory settings."

True to form, Bastila didn't look amused at his words in the slightest, lashing out with more aggression than usual, "Perhaps," she conceded. "But they're not your destiny."

Her saber vanished, and she moved towards him, reaching up a hand to stroke along the side of his face, his mouth falling open at the gesture even as he realized he was suddenly vulnerable to anything she wanted to do to him. At that moment, their Bond opened fully both ways, Bastila's _desire_ flooding him, her desire for power, for understanding, for _him_. Inside of her, her emotions raged, confused and hungry, emotions that in a healthy person might have been...

Might have been...

"The Sith Empire is your destiny," Bastila told him, grabbing the other side of his face and forcing him to look into her eyes. "You are power incarnate, Revan, a living extension of the Force itself. Can't you see?" She pleaded with him, and though her desires were dark, her earnestness was not in question. " ** _I_** am your destiny, Revan."

It was then, staring down at her, wanting more than anything to say yes just to be with her, just to throw off the shackles of the Jedi and the Republic and try to forge the Sith into something better -- a true alternative to either -- that he understood the true meaning of temptation.

Fear, greed, the lust for power -- none of that would be enough to drive him anywhere near the Dark Side. He could see the atrocities the Sith committed clearly, through the scars on his own body, through the things that had happened on Kashyyyk and Korriban. But the desire to use power to reshape the Galaxy into a better place? The desire to no longer be inhibited by a set of rules that someone else made for him, that kept him away from the person he loved the most in this world because desire was dangerous?

That appealed to him, on a visceral, real level, both to his good will and to the bitterness slowly mounting inside of him as he thought about every good opportunity the Republic and Jedi had taken from him... Including the chance to live a normal life. If he was going to be damned to live a life apart, he might as well do something with that, something truly good, something that changed the Galaxy.

But Revan had already changed the Galaxy, and looking down into Bastila's face, he could never wish on her the kind of life he had lived.

He _loved_ her.

And because he loved her, he couldn't _do_ this to her, couldn't drag her along with him to enable him in glorious opulence and debauchery until it destroyed their relationship.

He wouldn't let there be another Malak.

Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, Revan summoned the Force and pushed Bastila backward and away from him, his hands still gripping his sabers tightly, "I won't betray you," he said. "And I won't make the same mistake twice."

He saw betrayal, then fury, cross her face, anger snapping across their Bond like a spark across dry wood. Her emotions ablaze, Revan felt oddly calm in the face of what had happened, her mouth opening and closing as she gaped like a fish, searching for words.

He took no pleasure in not succumbing to whatever weakness she saw in him, staring into her face and pushing her down with the Force again before she could stand, watching her scramble for the cockpit of her shuttle.

"I will find a way to save you," he promised her, listening to the sound of footsteps rushing up behind him as Juhani ran to his side, her saber blazing, Bindo still dashing towards the controls for the gravitational generator.

"Save me?" Bastila spat, clamoring over her shuttle, the top popping open with a hiss. "Malak saved me from the Jedi, Revan, the same fools who you cowtow to now, blindly! We could have ruled the Galaxy together, but now, when we meet again, I'll be forced to kill you!"

Revan simply stared at her, saying nothing, their eyes locked for a moment before she tore her gaze away, slipping into her aircraft. Its engines roared, and above them, the invisible canopy of the gravity field sighed as it dispersed, leaving Revan staring at the ship as it took off towards the Star Forge.

He did not turn away until he could no longer see it, unable to feel relief that the Republic would no longer be obliterated, his only reality Bastila's anger and the calming presence of Juhani, who had placed her hand on his shoulder.

* * *

From above, the Unknown World was a jewel, quiet compared to the chaos they had thrown themselves into the moment they left the surface of the planet. Around them, Sith Fighters swarmed, only Carth's swift maneuvering preventing them from being hit. The Hawk fired back, Canderous at the guns, as T3 wheeled around, whistling and trying to make the repairs to the ship he could.

"She's going to be using battle meditation against us," Revan said absently, reaching out to the holocommunicator as it began to flash with an incoming message. "We need to hurry and land on

the Star Forge to find her and turn the tide of battle."

"Captain Onasi, come in Captain Onasi," said the voice of a woman, vaguely familiar to Revan as an image shimmered into existence, a tall woman in the Republic uniform and Master Vandar.

"Sorry," Revan said, looking up into her face as he leaned against the console, "Captain Onasi is a bit busy at the moment. You'll have to talk to me instead."

For a moment, all was silent, only the sound of the static crackling between them. The woman's face was stricken, her eyes as wide as saucer plates as she stared at him, her hands unclenching and clenching at her side before she finally managed to speak, likely due to her soldier's discipline.

"Revan?" she asked, her voice guarded. "Revan, what are you --"

"Relax," he said, holding up a single hand in front of him defensively. "I'm sure Master Vandar can confirm -- I returned to the Light some time ago and have been helping the Republic in secret ever since. My team and I are the strike team that's going to take Malak out. We also took out the gravitational generator on the surface of the planet that would have turned this battle into the next Malachor V." He smiled thinly. "You're welcome."

She looked disbelieving, glancing frantically down toward Master Vandar, who nodded up at her, "He speaks the truth. Revan has returned to the side of the Republic. We did not inform you sooner because we wanted to maintain an element of surprise in the fight against our enemies."

His words seemed to ease most of her tension away, but not all of it... Not that Revan really blamed her, "If that's the case, it's good to have you on our side again, Revan."

Revan was about to respond, but the ship beneath him shook as it was hit by one of the Sith Fighters, the lights in the Ebon Hawk flickering wildly for a moment. Catching himself on the terminal, Revan looked back up into the faces of the Commander and Master Vandar.

"I hope you're about to drop out of hyperspace soon," Revan said, looking over his shoulder toward the cockpit, "because we'll need cover fire if we're going to land, and I _need_ to get on the Forge."

He watched the two of them exchange looks, the sudden sounds of explosions filling his ears as Sith Fighters began to explode on all sides of the Hawk. Immediately, he reached out with his senses, the presences of his new allies suddenly looming above and around him as the Republic Fleet jumped from hyperspace.

"We will send fighters to support your approach," Master Vandar said, "as well as a Jedi assault time to help you with your infiltration."

He waved his hand, and Revan nodded as he stepped away from the terminal, bowing his head, "Understood, Master."

Their eyes locked as Revan straightened, and for a moment a great deal passed between them, a quiet understanding that everything the Jedi had done to him have been building up to this moment. Oddly, Revan thought as he backed away from the terminal, he felt he could finally forgive them.

What they had done was inexcusable, but Revan could understand it now, better than he could at first. It made perfect sense that they would feel their hand was force, given how desperate the situation was, and if anyone understood having to do difficult things out of desperation, it was Revan.

Especially after Korriban.

He was able to let the Jedi's mistakes go in favor of forging his own path, independent of them, without any of their input. He didn't need to be a Jedi to use the Force and try to help other people, and he didn't need the support of an organization, not as long as he kept himself open to different possibilities.

Revan could forgive them without ever learning to _like_ them.

"May the Force be with us all," Revan said, flipping off the transmission and dashing toward the cockpit, where Carth was trying to navigate them toward the Star Forge, Sith Fire dramatically reduced since the arrival of the Republic Fleet.

Swiftly, he strapped himself in beside Carth, turning his attention toward the Star Forge, dominating his vision. The Sith Fighters looked like small, silver bugs swarming around it, bugs that the Interdictors around the Forge were spewing into the void, their ability far greater with the boost they were surely receiving from Bastila within the massive factory itself.

"So I take it that our help has arrived?" Carth asked. "Good. I couldn't have managed on my own for much longer. Now come on... Let's get inside that monstrosity."

"Let's," Revan agreed. "The good news is that we can expect Jedi help inside."

"Jedi help?" Carth muttered. "About time they put forth actual numbers towards this fight. Figure it's only because you're here, leading the charge?"

The Hawk moved left swiftly, swerving around an incoming swarm of fighters, fire from Canderous trailing after them. Revan watched as two of the five fighters ignited, one of them careening into the fighter in the lead and sending them both into a downward spiral that ended in a colorful explosion of fuel and shrapnel.

"Maybe," Revan conceded, "Admittedly, the Jedi really don't seem to like me much, but at this point I don't think that's a requirement... We both want the same thing, after all." Revan closed his eyes, reaching out once more with his feelings, and to his surprise, a very familiar presence reached back to him.

Blazing hot, like a star, furious but concentrated and determined.

Here, at the end of it all, it seemed like Malak had nothing to hide from.

And for once, either did Revan.

"It's true," Carth continued, unaware of what was happening between Malak and Revan at that moment. "Either way, we're finally at the end. After this, it's just clean up for the Republic, because without Malak, the entire thing falls apart."

"Probably," Revan conceded. "It might not have, if I'd made a different choice, but I'm here now, and I don't intend to ever walk down that path again."

"Good to know," Carth said, Revan catching his smile out of the corner of his eye. "I wouldn't want to see one of my closest friends fall to the Dark Side."

The words struck Revan for multiple reasons, thinking about Malak still waiting for him, but he smiled back anyway, laughing, "What happened to not trusting anyone, Carth?"

"I met some asshole on Taris who didn't know how to mind his own damn business," The Hawk spiraled up, then shot forward, cementing once and for all that it really was the fastest ship in the Galaxy, "Maybe you know him."

"I don't know," Revan replied, "It's been a long time since Taris."

"Yeah," Carth agreed, making his way towards an opening on the outside of the Forge, so close now that Revan could see the Hawk's reflection on its smooth plated surface, "Yeah it has been."

Red blaster beams shot from the Hawk, opening the docking bay to the vacuum of space, the blast doors beginning to close. Shooting through them, the Hawk made its way onto one of the landing pads, followed by a small shuttle of Republic build, the tiny ships dwarfed by the massive interior of the alien space station.

Hastily, Revan moved to unfasten himself from his seat, "I'll need you with me," he told Carth. "I'm going to have Bindo and Juhani take control of the Jedi and see what they can do about securing this floor."

"With you?" Carth asked, looking momentarily confused before he nodded, unfastening himself and following Revan away from the cockpit.  "Me and who else?"

"HK and T3," Revan replied. "I don't know what kind of security systems this place has, and we'll be better off if we have the 'mech with us."

"And what about us?" asked Mission, already unstrapping herself from where she had been sitting. "You don't just expect me, Big Z, and Canderous to sit around, do you?"

"Of course not," Revan replied. "I need you guys to try and sabotage as many of the Forge's operations as possible. Just... Try not to get so far away that it's hard for you to come back." He looked towards the Hawk's hallways, the direction of the gangplank and the exits, "We need to make sure we can get out of here as quickly as possible, if push comes to shove."

Mission nodded, Zalbaar placing a hand on Revan's shoulder and squeezing gently before he followed her, presumably to go get Canderous. For a moment, Revan smiled after him, then turned his attention to Bindo and Juhani.

"We've got Jedi allies. Coordinate with them to see what you can do about holding and securing this docking bay."

Bindo nodded, saluted, and then walked off, old soldier that he was, leaving Juhani staring up into Revan's face for a moment before she took a few strides forward and wrapped him in her arms. Smiling, Revan embraced her back, letting his eyes slipped closed for a moment, taking comfort from her presence.

"May the Force be with you, my friend," she said as she pulled away, her yellow eyes shining with resolve as she turned, following after Bindo and leaving nothing between them unsaid.

"HK," Revan said, "T3, you're with Carth and I. Let's fight our way up to Bastila and Malak." The little droid beeped his nervous understanding just as Revan turned his eyes to HK, who looked back at him with calm, yellow opticals."HK?"

"Yes, Master?" The droid asked.

"Terminate with extreme prejudice."

He could feel the droid radiating joy from across the room, "Of course, Master! It will be my singular pleasure to give the meatbags of this space station the death they deserve for defying you!"

Saying nothing else, Revan walked towards the exit, catching the eye of Canderous Ordo, who was only a few steps in front of him, descending the gangplank. They exchanged a long, meaningful look, as only two old soldiers could, before Canderous turned away, a smile clear on his lips even from Revan's angle.

"Give 'em hell, vod," he said.

Revan, grasping the hilts of his sabers, could only smile and nod.

Whatever happened now, whatever was to come, at least he had the support and loyalty of his merry band of misfits.

To the end, if needed.


	39. Part Four; Chapter Thirty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than usual, though only by like 300 words, so it's almost not noticeable. 
> 
> I really wanted the Bastila thing and the ending to stand out as the most important things in this chapter. HK has some funny lines, though, so that should make a few of you happy. I really wish I could have made him a bigger part of all this. 
> 
> Maybe I'll include him more in my Revenge and Malice stories to make up for it.

Carth was a good companion, capable of providing long range fire as Revan cleaved through enemy after enemy on the Star Forge, what seemed like an endless stream of Acolytes, Dark Jedi, Troopers, and Droids. HK and T3 were equally useful, providing additional cover fire and a map of a facility where every room looked the same, one that would have been impossible to navigate otherwise.

Up, they went, and then inward, towards the very center of the entire facility, where the core of the factory was, where Malak waited for them.

Malak... and Bastila.

Revan could feel them both, their presences evident the closer and closer they drew to the center of the Star Forge.

Through the Force, Revan could feel their intent.

For Malak, the will to dominate, to finally grow larger than the long shadow Revan cast over him even now. For Bastila, the desire to maintain her freedom, to never go back to the Jedi or the way of life they had forced on her since she was a small child. They were understandable desires in light of everything that had happened over the past years, in the light of Revan's mistakes and the Jedi's.

Two organizations, both imperfect, both apt to destroy people, now set against one another.

Except the true solution, it seemed to Revan, was somewhere in the middle.

T3 beeped an exclamation as four more droids, joined by two troopers and a Dark Jedi rounded the corner. His sabers igniting in tandem, Revan launched himself through the air, locking one of his blades with the Dark Jedi's, bringing the other around to disarm the man-- literally.

Listening to the scream of agony, Revan didn't spare the man a second glance, leaving him to be picked off by either HK or Carth as he spun to face down one of the droids. Looking up into its blank, red, optical sensor, Revan listened to the sound of its laser charging, reaching out with the Force to freeze it in place.

Sensor swiveling frantically from side to side, it certainly saw when Revan's lightsaber came down on it from above, slicing it in two.

Beside him, a particularly good shot from HK to the chest of one of the soldiers sent him crumpling to his knees, Carth driving back one of the other droids toward the ledge. For a moment, his eyes locked with Revan's and the two of them exchanged a grin as Revan's eyes snapped back towards the droid, sending it flying over the ledge with a push from the Force.

Which left a single trooper, the dying Dark Jedi, and a single droid.

Another shot from Carth's gun sounded, and the Dark Jedi went still.

Scratch that, then.

Rolling up without being noticed by either the trooper or the much larger droid, T3 shocked the man, who let out a yelp and dropped his gun, Revan kicking it into the abyss a moment later. Blocking fire from the droid with his saber, Revan didn't need to look to know that the trooper had been shot by either Carth or HK as a barrage of fire suddenly concentrated itself on the droid.

Overwhelmed and unsure where to fire, it was short work for Revan to dispatch the machine, which fell into two neat pieces.

Once again, the corridor was empty, the sound of Revan's sabers the only sound for several long seconds. Reaching out, Revan patted the top of T3's head, returning his sabers to his side as he smiled down at the little astromech, "Thanks for the warning, buddy. I really appreciate that."

The droid trilled proudly, causing Revan's smile to widen.

"Come on," he said, motioning to his trustworthy droid and stalwart friend. "Let's get going. Who knows how much farther we have to go?"

Excitedly, T3 chirped a response, his wheels sliding noiselessly against the buffed-to-reflectiveness black metal floor of the Forge.

"Not much longer?" Revan asked.

"Observation: The little rust bucket appears to be correct, Master," came the voice of HK-47, suddenly standing at his side. "My internal sensors are detecting a large energy source not far from where we are now. I am sure I do not need to tell you this, but we should hurry."

"I hate to say this, but I agree with your homicidal droid, Revan," Carth said, already walking ahead of him. "Who knows how much longer the fleet can hold out against Bastila's battle meditation?"

Revan nodded, striding forward to join Carth, soon overtaking him,

In reality, though his face was very calm, his mind was swimming with thoughts of Bastila, his stomach churning at the thought that his companions might expect him to end her life... That Malak might somehow force his hand. It was something he feared, more than anything, Bastila dying because she had been caught up in all of this, dying because of an ability that he was sure he once must have coveted himself.

He would have been a fool not to, and Revan... Well, he was hardly _that_ kind of fool.

There had to be another way, he told himself, another way to save Bastila, a way to prevent her from being another causality, like Malak. There was no way he could save them both, knowing in his heart of hearts that Malak -- _Alek_ \-- would fight to the death for his pride rather than ever admit that he was wrong, no matter what was at stake.

But Bastila...

She had shown such a potential for growth and change that a part of him still believed that she could be reached, somehow, especially since he was certain...

He had seen it in her somehow, felt it in her back on the planet.

She _loved_ him.

His love for her had pulled him back from the brink, made him reevaluate his actions and decisions, and forced him into a place where he had to reconcile is past with his present. None of it had been pleasant, but she was more than just a goal to him, something to work towards, to save.

Her salvation wasn't for him, or for his ego.

It was because he loved her and she deserved more than to be a victim in the fallout of his actions and the actions of the Jedi Council.

Just like Alek.

It couldn't be too late for her, too.

Pushing his thoughts aside for the moment, Revan concentrated on following T3 to their destination, their progress slower than he would have liked given his mounting levels of anxiety. The closer they grew to Bastila and Malak, the more he could feel the tension rising inside of him, tension that would be released only when he finally faced them both. Until then, the anticipation would only rise and he would have to find a way to bear it, no matter the toll it took on him in the meantime.

Impeded by group after group of enemies, Revan was relieved when they reached the elevator that T3 assured them would lead them towards their destination.  Suddenly, his commlink went off, and Revan answered the call, pausing along the long, narrow bridge that lead to the elevator.

"Revan."

"I know who it is," came the exasperated voice of Bindo from the other side, practically shouting over the sounds of battle. "Listen, we've taken some causalities. I need you to send someone to reinforce our position or there won't be a docking bay to get back to!"

Revan hesitated, looking at Carth, who he was certain could hear Bindo's voice issuing from the tiny device Revan held in his hand. For a moment, they simply stared at one another, neither wanting to stay separate and leave Revan to face his demos alone, but realizing slowly this may be what the Force had intended all along.

Carth nodded.

"HK, T3, and Carth are on their way," Revan replied. "Try to hold your ground at least that long."

"We'll see what we can do," Bindo said, then swiftly ended the call.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay on your own?" Carth asked, his brow furrowed deeply. "Bastila's pretty tough, and I can only imagine that Malak is worse. We heard all kinds of rumors about him during the war, about what kind of duelist he was..."

Revan nodded, cutting Carth off, the other man watching him with intensity in his expression, a deep emotion that Revan recognized as concern. Reaching out, he placed his hand on Carth's shoulder, offering him one of his trademark ear to ear smiles, his eyes softening ever so slightly around the edges.

"I'll be fine, Carth," he assured his friend. "We all have our roles to play. Jolee and Juhani need you to rescue them, and I'm needed to stop Bastila from empowering the Sith Fleet."

Carth took a deep breath and nodded, looking up into Revan's face with deep resolve etched into the depths of his dark eyes, evident in every line of his face, "Come back alive," he said. "And... And may the Force be with you."

Coming from Carth, it seemed to mean more.

His smile softening somewhat, Revan turned away, looking towards the elevator, "May the Force be with you," he said in return. "Now hurry, or Bindo will come back from the grave to haunt you if he dies."

Revan heard Carth snort and usher the droids along, one confused, the other resigned.

He stood in the corridor for a long moment with his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of their footfalls and servos vanishing into the distance. Around him, the Star Forge groaned like a living thing, hungry for something Revan could not feasibly provide it, something that perhaps even Malak couldn't provide it.

Maybe once Revan would have known, he thought, opening his eyes again, feeling Malak reach out toward him with his mind, just as hungry.

At least with Malak, what he wanted was obvious.

He wanted Revan to come to him just as badly as Revan wanted to go.

One way or another, Revan thought as he took his first steps toward the elevator, this was about to end.

 _Come to me_ , Malak's voice muttered in his mind, just like it had on the Leviathan. _Come to me, Revan, let us meet again on the field of battle, not as allies, but as foes. Strike down my apprentice and find me._

Revan didn't respond, though he was aware that he could have, listening to the sound of the elevator as it slowly rose, trying to decipher the mystery of the Star Forge around him. It seemed impossible, a puzzle that he might have spent years studying, trying to unravel cryptic ancient texts and running countless experiments in a method as methodical as it was obsessive.

This was his Empire, still, Malak simply reshaping parts of it in his own image -- a more brutal, straightforward Sith, less interested in Public Relations, in making themselves look like a viable alternative.

It didn't matter.

All it meant was that the outside matched the inside now.

_You must know that this is our destiny, Revan. We were always meant to be foes, you and I. I can sense your emotions. You're **afraid.** _

So what if he was? Revan asked himself.

Was he wrong to be afraid right now? Afraid for Bastila, afraid that he might not be strong enough, afraid of what it would mean if he lost? There was so much at stake here, an entire Galaxy, and Revan knew that it was all riding on his shoulders once again.

It wasn't a comforting thought.

But even if he was afraid, it didn't mean this confrontation was destiny. Maybe it had to happen now, maybe there was no way out of it, but once upon a time, Revan had made a choice. He could so clearly remember seeing himself in that dream on Dantooine long ago, choosing to push further, to push toward the Star Forge. Revan knew it was his choice to embrace the Darkness, and now it was his choice to walk away from it.

Revan could accept the fear without letting it rule him.

He didn't need to let Malak gain the upper hand.

_I have always had the upper hand! It was only a matter of time before I grew powerful enough to challenge you, and you have grown weak and sentimental in your age, while I have only grown more powerful!_

This time, Revan responded, feeling his spirit grow more resolved inside of him the farther the elevator rose.

_My sentimentality isn't my weakness, Malak. I won't believe that lie any longer._

There was silence, for a moment, but he thought he could almost hear the echo of laughter in his own mind, harsh and barking. His memories of that laughter were different, just as loud, but warmer, without the mechanical tinge from the vocabulator attached to Malak's neck brace.

_Lie? Look at the way you reacted to losing your precious Bastila. You will never defeat me, Revan. I defy you to!_

He took a deep breath, the elevator chiming musically as the doors opened, revealing a long hallway that opened up to a large room with a map of the Galaxy in the center. Before that Galaxy, basking in its blue-green glow, kneeled Bastila, her washed out even more by the blackness around her, into which she almost seemed to disappear.

Revan prayed that it wasn't an omen.

 _Then I will defy you_ , he declared to himself as much as to Malak. _Every step of the way, I will defy you, if that's what it takes._

Again, the laughter chimed in his head, but it wasn't followed up by a witty retort.

Instead, Bastila's eyes slowly slid open and she stood, staring at him with a cold expression on her face, exchanging no words as she ignited her saber, twin yellow blades cutting through the darkness.

The color, so strange in the dark corridors of the Star Forge, filled Revan with a hope that could only stem from the Force, and without a word, he responded by igniting both of his sabers and walking slowly down the corridor to greet her.

* * *

They circled one another like a pair of hungry nexu, Bastila's eyes glowing orange as she glared at him, a few of her stray bangs falling into her face. She could strike at any time, but Revan refused to land the first blow.

If it was going to come to this between them, she would have to force his hand.

At last she moved, like lightning darting between clouds, closing in on him with a force and ferocity fueled by the sense of betrayal he could still feel radiating from her. Revan, calmly and confidently, parried her blow for blow, mindful of the abyss on either side of the platform they found themselves fighting on.

He could feel the heat of her saberstaff, its hum more deafening than the droning of the ancient machine around him as she drove him toward that very same ledge, crying out in rage as he jumped, landing on the other side of her. Spinning, she advanced toward him again, but Revan darted away, avoiding her blades through his quick reflexes, boosted slightly by his emphatic ability as he tracked the surges in her feelings that indicated an incoming attack.

"You will take me seriously!" She shouted, her voice echoing through the room as he saber arced through the air where he had been standing seconds before. "You will fight me, Revan!"

"I have no desire to fight you," he responded calmly, landing on top of the terminal that was projecting the map, staring down into her face, flushed red with rage. "You have to know that just by being in the same room with me."

Bastila seemed to swallow a modicum of her obvious rage, grunting at him as she charged again, swinging left to avoid hitting the sensitive machinery. It implied a certain level of control, but that was unsurprising, considering it was Bastila he was dealing with.

He danced backwards, just out of the reach of her saber, catching the tip of her blade with his own as she swung at him a second time. Their eyes locked, deep fury seeping from every centimeter of her face, though Revan could sense that it was motivated by her deep hurt over what had happened on the planet.

"You're smug to think that being unaffected will disarm me," she growled, pushing him back with a wave of Force energy. "Your Jedi tricks will not save you, Revan."

"I'm not unaffected," he replied, opening himself up emotionally to her through their bond, her face contorting briefly as she felt the fear and sadness he kept close to his heart. "I'm never unaffected, Bastila."

She cried out in rage, leaping at him through the air, driving toward him with such force that he didn't have time to dodge. All he could do was desperately block each blow of her saberstaff, letting her back him toward the precipice once more, leaving him with little choice but to respond in force to avoid dying, forcing her to assume the defensive position.

"You will have to kill me if you wish to leave alive," she hissed, the words making him tighten his grip on his sabers. "Otherwise, I will cut you to ribbons for betraying me!"

" _Betraying_ you?" he pleaded with her, driving toward her again, keeping her on the defensive as he forced her back towards the map terminal. "Don't you understand, Bastila?"

She didn't respond, a spike of aggression snapping across their Bond before she closed herself off from him, ducking and weaving underneath the blows of his sabers as she came close. With a growl, she elbowed him in the gut, sending him stumbling backwards across the smooth floor, blinking tears from his eyes that he hadn't realized he had been shedding.

Somehow, he hadn't been expecting her to fight dirty, something that made him feel foolish in retrospect. Bastila was a Sith now, and it had changed her. Even if he managed to save her, she would never be the same person she was before.

Taking a deep breath, he fought down the annoyance inside of him, digging his heels down to slow his momentum. It hurt through his boots, but he grit his teeth and willed away the minor annoyance, calling on the Force to push her back mid jump, sending her flying backwards into a pillar at the edge of their make-shift arena.

His body's memory told him that she hadn't been this strong before, but he wasn't surprised. The passage of time had brought her new strength, and her training with Malak had taken away her self-imposed restrictions about the proper use of her power. It only made sense she'd be a more formidable opponent, and she hadn't exactly been a slouch to begin with...

Just very much a Jedi.

"Why don't you end me?!" Bastila demanded, struggling to her feet, igniting her saber once more as she stalked towards him. "You had every opportunity! Where is your fire? Your passion?"

From the tips of her fingers suddenly arced lighting, deep violet, racing through his entire body. Screaming, Revan dropped his sabers to the ground, barely aware of the noises that they made as pain seared his every nerve ending. The only sound that seemed to matter was the sound of her boots tapping against the metal floors as she approached him, staring down at him with contempt in her face.

The pain stopped, leaving him panting as he looked up into her eyes, her saber still humming furiously in her hand. It was the only noise besides for his heavy breathing and the omnipresent hum of the Star Forge around them, though he had a hard time even hearing it as he concentrated only on her face.

"You could be the most powerful Sith in the Galaxy, Revan!" Bastila continued. "You could break your own chains and the chains of every Jedi to live, if you wished! You could finally abolish their foolish beliefs and prevent more people like us from ever having to exist in a world that tells them they're weak and foolish for simply _feeling_!"

Again, pain wracked his body, forcing him to support his own weight with his arms, unable to even look into her face as her lightning covered him. Her rage was evident, though he couldn't feel that she was taking an delight in his screams of agony as he curled in on himself, tears stinging his eyes.

By the time it was over, he lie on the floor in a ball, still staring up at her with raw defiance burning in his gaze.

"Why won't you **_fight back_**?!" Bastila demanded of him, delivering a sharp kick to his side. "Why won't you realize your _destiny_?!"

"Because," he managed through the pain, "I've chosen a different path. Bastila... I'm not the man I used to be. I changed... _You_ changed me."

She cried out and tried to kick him again, but his hand caught her ankle, freezing her in place. Revan used his other arm to force himself back onto his knees, his eyes never leaving her face as he stared up at her, watching her stricken expression carefully, fearing that she could break at any moment and do something she would regret for the rest of enternity.

"I know you love me," he said quietly, her response to immediately kick his hand away and raise her saber high above her head.

" _Love_?" she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice airy and offended. "Love is the greatest weakness of the Sith."

"Come on Bastila," he said, staring to laugh, the sound weaker than he would have liked. "We both know you're as horrible of a Sith as I was. You won't kill me."

Their eyes locked, and for one horrible moment it almost seemed like she might actually choose to kill him, but then her expression broke, rage transforming to agony in a single instance. Large, wet tears began to fall from her eyes, splashing onto his upturned face, her hands trembling so intensely that her lightsaber fell from her fingers, clattering onto the floor.

A moment later, she followed it, crumpled into a dejected pile before Revan, her head buried in her hands as her sobs echoed throughout the room.

He wasted no time, dragging himself toward her, reaching out and pulling her to his chest. She felt small and frail against him, her body shivering as she sat limply in his arms, her tears staining his robes. Carefully, afraid she would break into a million pieces on the implications of her own actions, he threaded his fingers through her hair, sensing her resolve shattering as she slowly reached up to wrap her arms around him.

She said nothing, clinging to him, her anchor in the sea of her emotions, her face buried in his chest as her sobs subsided. He could feel her breath, her small, muscular form pressed against him for comfort, warm in the cold depths of the Star Forge.

Slowly, she pulled away, reaching up to grasp the sides of his face and peering deep into his eyes. Her hands were calloused and warm, emitting a soft light as she began to heal him, just as she must have done on the Behemoth what felt like an eternity ago.

Strength seeped back into him, radiating through his body, staring at her hands and spreading through him until the pain she'd caused was soothed away by her own hands. The entire time, her gaze was unwavering, her eyes only falling when she finished, pulling away from him to stare at her own palms, splayed on her lap.

"You should kill me," she said softly, Revan wincing at the words, feeling them slice into his heart.

Reaching out, he gently cupped her face in one hand, forcing her to look into his face, her blue eyes red from having shed tears, "Bastila," he muttered, stroking her cheek with his thumb, trailing off as he stared down into her face."Did you let _me_ die, Bastila?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed, Revan carefully tipping her chin toward him with his other hand, "Most people would have let me die on that bridge, and they would have been perfectly justified. No one would have condemned them if they had left me to burn, but you... You didn't. How could I ever end your life? Dying at this point would just be running away from the things you did."

"But..." She began, her eyes falling, "But I chose this. I chose to be this way. Once you choose this, you cannot go back. You were freed because you --"

"I was freed because I wanted to be," he said, cupping her face with his other hand. "It's true that the memory thing gave me a second wind, but... Ultimately, it was still my choice. I'll always have to live with what I did, but doing something doesn't mean you have to choose that thing forever."

Her eyes slowly rose to his face again, and she spent a long moment simply staring at him before raising her hands to cover his. Eyes slipping closed, she leaned into his touch, some of the anxiety and fear draining from her, though she was no less exhausted and no more sure of herself.

"I love you," she muttered softly as she opened her eyes, "but I cannot face Malak with you. I am afraid of what seeing him again would do to me."

The words made Revan's chest flutter, though there was nothing particularly happy about this moment. Quietly, he brushed a strand of errant hair from her face and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her hairline, "And I love you," he said as he pulled away, "which is why I would never ask you to come with me. This is my destiny, Bastila."

Absently, it seemed, she touched her own hairline as if amazed, locking eyes with him one last time before nodding, "Then I will stay here and assist the Republic with my battle meditation."

Revan nodded, turning away from her to follow Malak's presence, knowing that whatever else remained to be said between them would have to be said later. This wasn't over, not by a long shot, her feelings still a complicated tangle, much as his were, something that would take a lot of time and patience to work through for both of them.

For now, though, they both had a job to do, and both of them were the sort of people inclined to do it.

If they survived this -- _when_ they survived this -- they would have plenty of time to discuss it.

Footsteps echoing down the hallway, Revan made his way slowly toward Malak. Each step felt like it spanned an eternity, the sound it made echoing in Revan's mind until he finally reached a set of doors, leading towards the observation deck of the Star Forge.

He had been there many times before, he realized in a moment of oddly resonant memory, stood there and watched his Empire deploy ships, commanded his Navy with a flourish and a smile. And now... Now Malak was waiting for him, just beyond it, beckoning to Revan to defy him once and for all.

Taking a deep breath to still his nerves, Revan took one step forward, then another, the doors sliding open to reveal the broad, tired chamber of the observation deck. For a moment, he was caught in by the sight of the battle unfurling in front of him, so different from space than it had been in the thick of it, turning now in the favor of the Republic. It was colorful from here, a barrage of laser fire and torpedoes, of massive cruisers and tiny fighters all darting about, dwarfed by the massive Star Forge above them.

It was only when his eyes fell on the broad shoulders and deep black cape of the Dark Lord of the Sith, staring out at the same scenery as him, and his mind momentarily went blank, that his feet took the final steps into the room.

Then, Malak turned around, forcing Revan to acknowledge the respirator and brace around his neck, and from that moment on, it felt like they were the only people in the Galaxy.


	40. Part Four; Chapter Forty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also a bit shorter than usual, but given the intense nature of this entire chapter, I wanted to make sure everything felt concise and powerful. 
> 
> Next chapter wraps everything up. 
> 
> We're almost there, friends. 
> 
> Somehow, we're almost there.

"I knew you would come, Revan," Malak said in way of greeting, his voice cold and mechanical through his respirator as he acknowledged his old friend's presence with a nod. "It was only a matter of time before this confrontation ever since we met on the Leviathan."

He turned around, looking back out towards the battle, crossing his arms behind his back, plunging the room into momentary silence. Revan looked around, noting the suspended bodies of a dozen Jedi he _recognized_ in what appeared to be kolto tanks, their faces so ashen grey, their presence so faint through the Force that they could not possibly be truly alive. They would have joined the Force if not kept here by Malak to ends that Revan could not possibly grasp.

Swallowing, he turned his attention back to Malak, who was glancing at him from over his shoulder, black eyes as yawning and dark as the void beyond the viewport.

"I must apologize," he said as Revan mounted the steps, coming to stand beside him, tearing his eyes away from the Jedi. "I seemed to have underestimated you twice in a row now."

"It's only to be expected, Malak," Revan replied, watching his own reflection in the transpisteel in front of him, his face drawn and tired. "Your understanding of the Galaxy is based on Sith teachings."

"As yours once were," Malak said, his tone biting, his hand reaching down to stroke the curved hilt of his lightsaber thoughtfully, a gesture that made Revan's heart clench for reasons that he could not explain. "And now what are you, Revan?"

Malak turned slowly toward him, staring him in the eyes, his dark gaze penetrating, rage and resentment swimming beneath it like churning lakes of lava on Sullust. Clenching his fits at his side, Revan met his former apprentice's gaze unflinchingly, setting his jaw and refusing to respond.

"I suppose that answer remains to be seen," Malak admitted after a moment, grasping his lightsaber firmly in his hand. "You won't remember this, of course, but we once received training from an Echani warrior."

Slowly, he began to circle Revan, the sound of his saber igniting doing nothing to dampen the faux-conversational tone of his voice. If anything, it seemed to emphasize the false sense of cordiality, the knife's edge on which their conversation was balanced.

"The Echani believe you can understand the true nature of a being by meeting them in combat," Malak explained, the heat of his lightsaber suddenly singeing the hairs on the back of Revan's neck. "So show me, Revan. Show me who you are."

Saying nothing, Revan spun around, igniting his saber mid turn, forcing Malak to lock blades with him. Blades hissing and crackling as they connected, Revan had to call on the Force to boost his strength as Malak suddenly began to bear down on him with a strength that Revan could never hope to imitate on his own.

Flashes danced through his mind of long ago sparring matches as Malak forced Revan to disengage, images of the two of them with training sabers back before any of this had even been a dream of a possible reality. Grunting under the strain of the flashes, Revan found himself being driven backwards by Malak, who moved with a deliberation and ferocity that bellied the fury and hatred he utilized in every attack and hid beneath affability.

 _Polite_ Alek, _observant_ Alek, always _supportive_ Alek, punishing him for something he couldn't remember doing yet somehow still regretted.

He grit his teeth, the bones in his arms vibrating with the strength of Malak's blows, his mind still reeling with a possibility that it might somehow be possible to talk his way out of this, but only until he remembered Malak's jaw and the single, surgical blow that had severed it.

Swallowing his own guilt and banishing it to the future, Revan resolved to never dip into that cold well of hate ever again, knowing that he could not use it to defeat this opponent, one that would never relent and knew his every weakness more intimately than he himself did.

Instead, he drew on something else, the small part of him that still recognized Malak as someone he cared deeply for.

That thought alone sparked something in him, an awakening of another side of himself, long buried underneath the guise of questing and dispatching enemies. He'd never had time to really contemplate Revan the strategist, and he still didn't now, knowing only that his mind somehow cleared and suddenly he could read every twitch of Malak's muscles that would result in a swing of his saber.

Leaping backwards toward the viewport, away from the single-minded attention of Malak's glowing red saber, Revan reached out with the Force, tearing a conduit from the wall to sling it at his opponent. He watched as it was cut in two, sparks flying as the two halves skipped across the smooth, black floor, sliding to a stop at the entrance, dashing to his left to keep Malak on the move.

"Is this really what you've become, Revan?" Malak queried, voice as calm and still as the depths of space. "Running and hiding like a coward?"

Leaping through the air, Revan came down on Malak from above, moving quickly enough that he turned the tides, forcing Malak back down the access ramp. As they moved, blades of their sabers casting violet and crimson light across their faces, Malak began to laugh, quietly at first, then so loudly that it filled the room, cacophonous as thunder.

"Yes!" he cried, his blows coming down with even more force than they had before. "There you are! I knew you had to be somewhere inside, buried underneath all the Jedi lies!"

Revan jumped to the left, narrowly avoiding one of Malak's swings, watching as he overcorrected to compensate for the power he was putting behind each of his attacks. Grinning, he lashed out at Malak's feet with the Force, watching the Dark Lord's eyes widened as he lost his balance, stumbling forward towards Revan.

As he caught himself, Revan saw the first crack in his control as Malak charged him, a scream of rage cutting off the last echoes his hideous laughter.

"This isn't a game, Revan!" he cried, charging Revan with the fury of a starving reek. "Quit treating this like a child's sparring match and try to kill me!"

The last words were punctuated with a blast of the Force that sent Revan flying backwards into one of the tanks, his head smacking against the glass hard enough to crack it. Stunned, it was all Revan could do to roll out of the way as Malak's saber came down on where his head had been but a moment before, scrambling to his feet just in time to dodge another flurry of Malak's assault.

"You **_will_** take me seriously!" Malak demanded, as Revan struggled to his feet, igniting his saber again, the reality of the situation slowly dawning on him, though it should have been evident from the start. "I am not your Apprentice any longer, Revan, and I am not your friend!"

Giving Revan no time to breath, the Dark Lord drove toward him again, leaving Revan little choice but to frantically scramble away and search for some form of purchase. There was no break, no reprieve, Malak acting with the mercilessness of a Sith, leaving Revan to wonder at the monster he had created.

"I am your enemy!" Malak shouted, the words making tears sting behind Revan's eyes as he leapt right into a roll, ducking underneath one of Malak's blows.

"Why?" Revan demanded, sweeping at Malak's feet with his saber, engaging the Sith Lord once more. " _Why_?!"

"Why?" Malak echoed, Revan's heart breaking at the hatred he found in the depths of Malak's eyes. "Don't you dare act betrayed, Revan! You brought this upon yourself, with every single lesson you taught me driving me farther away!"

Outstretching his arm, Malak seemed to beckon towards the tank Revan had crashed into, a strain of sickly white energy drifting towards him, reaching out to wrap about his arm. Though Malak had no mouth to smile with, Revan could feel him sneering as he drove forward once more, filled with a strength that could only be described as _impossible_.

"You're the antagonist of this story," Malak hissed as he came close, locking blades with Revan once more. "You don't even realize how ironic it is, watching you destroy the Galaxy's best chance at salvation, your own Sith."

Fighting down the tears that blurred the edges of his vision and trying to deny that possibility that Malak might be right, Revan ran from the Dark Lord, towards one of the kolto tanks, driving his saber into the control module and watching the power fail. He could feel the life inside fading, but whatever this was, whatever was happening... It had to be stopped.

Not just for the sake of preventing Malak from gaining any more power, either.

"But that's just what the Jedi would have wanted," Malak continued as he jumped through the air, landing in front of Revan, who dodged backwards, making his way toward another of the tanks. "And you have no idea that you're their puppet, just like you were before, just like we all were!"

Revan slashed the blade of his saber through another one of the control panels, spinning in time to parry Malak's incoming blow.

"I'm not doing this for the Jedi," Revan said, channeling his passion into every swipe and slash, catching Malak off guard. "I'm doing this for myself, for Bastila, for all the people we've condemned to death in the name of progress and security."

The words momentarily silenced Malak, who disengaged, running away from Revan towards another of the tanks, his progress impeded when Revan pulled another of the fixtures from the wall and sent it hurtling at the Dark Lord. In another shower of sparks, Malak stopped to cut the projectile into pieces, some of the debris flying off in the direction of one of the tanks, smashing open the pane of glass  and shorting out the control panel with kolto fluid.

"And yet here you are, fighting me in the name of justice!" Malak sneered, spinning back around to face Revan, who was charging at Malak, forcing the Sith to engage him in battle once more. "What good does this serve, Revan? You don't have the strength to terminate me! Your sentimentality will see to that!"

The words were painful to hear, Revan's grip on his saber only tightening, his eyes burning with tears again as he grit his teeth and stood his ground, "I don't want to kill you, Malak," he said quietly, the gold disks around his irises expanding as he called on his emotion to fuel his attacks, "but I will."

Malak's eyes widened as Revan cried out, putting the full force of a blow behind an attack that sent his foe skidding a meter backwards. Gazes locking, they both spent a moment staring at one another, Malak's face turning a shade paler as his emotion's probed Revan, who was filled with equal parts grief, regret, and resolve.

"You..." Malak muttered, shaking his head of whatever thoughts were lurking there, his shouts filling the room as he dove at Revan, his fury seeming to make the air around him waver with its intensity.

Side stepping his first two attacks, Revan jumped backwards once more, taking out a few more of the kolto tanks before Malak caught up to him, attacks still accompanied by sounds of rage and exertion. Revan watched him, knowing in his heart of hearts that Malak had finally snapped, his control abandoned in favor of mindless agression.

"I hate you!" Malak cried, the words hurting Revan far more than any of the blows Malak levied his way could. "Why! Why is it always you!? Why do I always have to play second best to you, always play the supporting cast to your hero?!"

Gritting his teeth, Revan moved as quickly as he could to dodge, block, and parry Malak's blows, each coming with more speed and force than the last. Was there anything he could have done? Could he have mitigated this somehow in the past instead of always assume Malak was there, that he would always _be_ there?

Did the question really matter when the man who he had once been closer to any other in the Galaxy, something his emotions clearly recalled even with all the holes in his fractured or nonexistent memory, was actively trying to murder him?

"This was supposed to be my destiny!" Malak continued, Revan's mind desperately scrambling as he looked for a solution, a way out as he was backed slowly against one of the tanks. "But you couldn't simply stay dead, where you would have been beneficial to me! You had to come back!"

Malak's saber came down on Revan's shoulder, searing through his robes, Revan screaming so loudly as his vision went white that it almost felt as though he was listening to himself scream from outside of his own body. Choking back the blinding agony, the sound of Revan's saber hitting the ground drawing him from his stupor in time to roll out of the way of the killing blow, which severed the control panel of the kolto tank completely in two.

"I didn't want this!" Revan shouted back, his bum arm hanging limply at his side as Malak advanced on him, each step sounding like a metronome counting down the seconds to his own inevitable demise. "I never asked to be this way, Alek! I never saw you as second best!"

As Malak's shadow fell over him time seemed to slow painfully still, Revan's hand shot out to the other lightsaber still hanging at his side, igniting it as he arced it over his head. Malak's scream of absolute anguish as his hand was severed from his wrist drowned out all other noise as the Sith Lord fell to his knees. Revan rose, the red saber in his hand reflected in the shattered glass of the kolto tank behind him.

"You were my _friend_ , the only person who ever understood me," Revan said with absolute certainty as the last echoes of Malak's scream faded, tears openly falling from his eyes as he looked down at the Sith Lord, cradling his wrist in his good hand. "I _loved_ you."

"It's too late for that now," Malak said, his voice quiet even through his vocabulator. "You lead me down this path, and now we're both living with the consequences. Don't hesitate now or attempt to comfort me with _speeches_."

"I'm sorry," Revan said, his voice cracking on the last syllable. "I lead you on this path, but I won't take responsibility for your decisions afterward. Not anymore."

Those words drew Malak's eyes to him, some of the blackness fading from them, turning them foggy grey, like a day shrouded in mist. He said nothing, simply staring for a moment, searching Revan's face for something, seeming satisfied when he found it as he bowed his head once more.

Silence persisted between them for only a few more moments, the lightsaber still humming in Revan's hand the only noise until Malak spoke again as he struggled to his feet, resignation written into the square of his shoulders, "Don't leave me waiting any longer, Revan. We both know that this is what I want."

Revan didn't hesitate to honor Malak's wishes, knowing he wanted to die with his pride intact. Taking a step forward, he plunged the lightsaber through Malak's chest, watching his friend's eyes go wide before the light began to fade from them.

Dismissing his weapon, Revan caught Malak's falling body, lowering them both slowly toward the ground, Malak's dying eyes wide from more than pain as Revan carefully held him in his arms.

"I won't let you die alone," Revan said to him, the tears falling freely, watching Malak's hand rise, settling on Revan's shoulder, grip feeble as the strength faded.

They locked eyes, Malak's own brimming with tears, and in that moment Revan was certain it was Alek he was holding, watching the grey brighten to blue, retreating to ring his irises. He choked out a laugh, which quickly turned into a cough, his hand slipping from Revan's shoulder, until Revan caught it and held it there.

"In the end..." Alek rasped, his voice sounding relieved, not pained as his eyes slowly slipped closed. "The darkness... Takes me... And I am... Nothing."

And with one, last rasping shudder from his vocabulator, Malak went completely still.

Revan could have sat there forever, numbly holding the corpse of his best friend, if the Star Forge had not started to shake a moment later as torpedoes from the Hammerhead Cruisers bombarded its exterior. Above him, lights began to flash, red and orange, as a voice in Rakatan advised evacuation.

It jarred him from the stupor he was in, reminding him that his life was in danger if he didn't move, forcing his limbs into action as he called out to the Force for his other saber, attaching it to his hip. For a moment, he looked at Malak's lightsaber, hesitating before he walked over to pick it up, tucking is safely away as he turned back to Alek.

For a moment, he simply stared, even knowing his current grave situation.

Then, without really thinking about it, Revan picked up his friend's body, calling upon the strength of the Force to toss it over his shoulder.

He deserved a soldier's funeral after everything he had done for the Republic.

Revan would see to it that he got one, playing the last moments of his friend's life in his mind over and over again as he walked back towards the map room. There, Bastila was still waiting for him, seeming unsurprised to see him carrying Alek's body, her eyes straying to his wounded shoulder.

"You're hurt," she said, her blue eyes filled with worry.

"We don't have time to deal with it now," he replied, walking toward the elevator. "We have to hurry and get out of here or we'll go down with the Star Forge."

Bastila nodded, saying nothing else as she stepped to his side, the two of them evacuating together, Revan's mind far too numb to appreciate that they'd both made it through this alive.

* * *

 

None of his companions questioned the body of the Sith Lord stowed away in their cargo bay's cold storage, any jubilation Mission and even HK might have felt at their victory cut short by the sight of Revan's somber face. Neither did they question the return of Bastila, who seemed content to spend nearly all her time as close to Revan as possible, though he wasn't sure if it was for her stability or her own.

Most likely, he thought as the Hawk made its way towards the Republic flagship still orbiting the unknown world, it was both.

Behind them, the Star Forge wept plasma and debris into the void, like a flaming jewel. Some if it would be caught up in the planet's gravitational pull and end up in orbit, while others might crash to the surface or burn up in the atmosphere. Either way, a piece of technology tens of thousands of years old was now nothing more than the legend it was before Revan discovered it, a collection of nightmares and unfulfilled dreams.

He'd been successful, somehow, in spite of all the odds stacked against him from the beginning, but the shroud of Alek's death hung over him like a heavy blanket. Revan didn't doubt his friend was dead, didn't find himself mired in disbelief, simply grieved that it had ever come to this in the first place, that this had even been _necessary_. His mind couldn't help but swim with possibilities, a million questions of what-if, though he knew they were all ultimately pointless.

This was the timeline they were living in, and if Alek's consequences had claimed his life, then Revan would accept the consequences as well and live on in the aftermath, no matter how uncertain his future was.

His companions seemed to sense that he needed distance, though he appreciated Bastila's near constant presence and Carth's hand on his shoulder as they both stepped into the cockpit to watch the Cruiser grow closer. He said nothing, but Revan could easily imagine that he might have felt something similar with Karath died. Even years of bad blood and betrayal couldn't erase over a decade of understanding and friendship, no matter how much one might wish it to.

It nearly killed Revan to realize that all the details of that friendship had died with Alek, leaving him nothing but vague memories and feelings that he wished he could simply turn off.

There was much Revan had to confront, much he had to deal with yet, things he put aside when the Hawk docked inside the Cruiser and he and his crew disembarked met not with silence, but uproarious applause. Revan was grateful for it, the noise shaking him from his private grief as the reality of the situation finally slid home and he realized that they really had managed the impossible.

The Sith, once an evil that threatened to black out all hope in the Galaxy, had been routed, the Star Forge destroyed, and their leader dispatched all because of the actions of Revan and his small crew. As improbable and unlikely as any of it was, they had done it, and now the War could end with the Sith trampled underneath the heel of a united Republic.

And then finally, after over a decade of war, terror, and blood, the Galaxy could rebuild.

None of this would stop Revan from grieving, but it did remind him what all of this had been for as he looked into the faces of the crewmen and women of the Republic Navy.

Their actions had brought hope to the hopeless.

As Revan looked down at his own good hand, his shoulder still numb from his battle on the Star Forge, he could see the outline of the mask he had once worn and suddenly remembered that it, too, had once stood for hope.

Maybe it could stand for hope again, even after all the terror and suffering he'd brought to the Galaxy.

"Revan," said Master Vandar, hobbling toward him from the end of the procession, the Commander at his side, her eyes more approving than they had been during the call they had shared. "You have returned at last from the most important front of this war. Welcome home."

Briefly, his eyes strayed to Bastila, likely sensing what Revan could sense in her... The uncertainty, the fear, the taint of the Darkness within her. Whatever she faced now, Revan resolved he wouldn't let her face it alone and gently reached out to place his hand on her shoulder, her blue eyes snapping up to meet his, a slight ring of sunset orange around her irises.

"Thank you," Revan said, bowing his head to the Jedi Grandmaster. "I'm glad to see that you've come out in support of the Republic today. I'm afraid that most of your strike team didn't make it out of the Star Forge alive."

He thought he remembered Bindo saying something to the effect, anyway, though his mind was so numb that he wasn't really certain.

"I sensed their deaths through the Force, but they are at peace now," the tiny, shriveled Master replied, bowing his head solemnly. "As is your friend Alek. I sense, also, that you have something to say on the matter of his demise."

"I brought his body from the Star Forge," said Revan, not breaking eye contact with Vandar in spite of the Commander's look of open shock. "I believe it would only be appropriate to make sure he receives a proper funeral, given his past services to the Republic. In spite of everything, Alek was himself in the end."

The words rung true enough that the Commander look abashed, only a flicker across her features as Revan briefly raised his eyes to meet hers. Not even Vandar questioned him, simply nodding as he motioned toward two attending Jedi, who disappeared into the Hawk a moment later.

"We will honor your wishes," said the old man. "For now, we have set a course for Coruscant. There is much to be discussed now that you have returned, our Prodigal Knight."

The title struck him and he reached up, rubbing the back of his neck idly, suddenly not sure if he should stay in the Order or not in spite of no longer seeing himself as a Jedi. What he had said to Juhani on Dantooine before was true -- He really did believe he could do the most good there out of anywhere in the Galaxy.

Stealing a glance toward Bastila, who was staring at the tips of her own shoes with a distant expression on her face, Revan realized his choice was reflect hers.

No matter where she went, no matter what she needed, he would follow her.

His love for her would allow him to do nothing else, even if they could only ever remain close friends and she never allowed herself to reciprocate his feelings the way he wished she would.

"I understand, Master," Revan said with a bow of his head, turning his attention toward the Commander. "Take good care of Captain Onasi. If you don't give him what he wants after this you're a terrible boss, even if what he wants is an Admiralty."

He caught Carth's eye, watching the stoicism melt from the Captain's face, replaced by kindness and gratitude.

It reminded Revan that even if Alek was gone, he had gained as much as he had lost.

"Believe me, Revan," the woman said with a curt nod, "Republic High Command and I will be discussion an appropriate reward for Captain Onasi's actions. I'm sure the Chancellor will want to award you all the Republic's highest honors, in fact."

A small, reserved smile crossed her lips, "Perhaps you'll finally earn a proper Cross of Glory this time, not posthumously."

In spite of how dogged he felt, Revan couldn't help but smile, "I guess I pretend to die a lot. Sorry about that, Supreme Commander. I'll try not to pull any disappearing acts in the future."

She laughed quietly, a small, reserved sound before her attention returned to Master Vandar, still staring up at Revan with his odd green-grey eyes.

"You must be very tired," said the ancient Jedi with a small smile. "I am sure you would like to rest after all you have been through," his gaze flickered briefly to Revan's arm. "As well as some much needed healing, it would seem."

Slowly, Revan's eyes turned to each of his companions in turn, all of them just as bruised and tired looking as he was. Some of them, like Bastila, looked morose and sad, others, like Mission, looked stunned but satisfied. Either way, they all needed rest and time to recuperate.

Revan nodded, "And maintenance for the droids," he said, turning his eyes to HK. "You behave for them."

The assassin droid sighed a belabored sigh, but agreed regardless.

"And maintenance for the droids," agreed the Jedi, his eyes turning toward the Commander, who clapped her hands and called several of her celebratory retinue to attention.

Slowly, all the companions went their separate ways, escorted by various crew members, Revan finding himself alone once more after long. This time, he let his mind wander, all the hurt washing over him like a wave as he leaned his head back, sitting on the edge of his bed and letting wave after wave of agony crash against the shoreline of his consciousness.

The Jedi Grandmaster was right.

They did all need healing, Revan and Bastila most of all, perhaps.

Their bodies would be an easy fix, their minds more difficult, though Revan somehow felt certain that even in the midst of a long night of grief and regret, they would both somehow come out standing.

Wholeness was no longer a fever dream induced by the Jedi on his fractured mind, but a goal to work toward.

It was with this thought in the back of his mind, even beneath the fog of omnipresent grief, that Revan finally drifted into a sleep deeper than any in his working memory.


	41. Part Four; Chapter Forty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over. 
> 
> As I'm typing this, my throat is tight and my eyes are kind of burning as I realize I've somehow finally finished the journey of a year. I feel like I've grown so much as a writer through this, and I've certainly changed as a person. In some ways, Revan's journey really mirrors my own, and I'm not sure I can bring to words just what this character and his friends have meant to me during this time. 
> 
> What I do know is that I want to thank each and every one of you, even the people who have never commented, for taking this journey with me. Thank you for sharing it and leaving kind words or appreciation. You can't know what it means to me that you've supported me and interacted with the story I've written. 
> 
> Now that it's over, I'll probably take a few days off and move on to a new story. 
> 
> Don't worry, I'm not done with Revan yet. 
> 
> This may be an ending but it's not goodbye.

Revan hadn't been to Coruscant in over five years by the time he finally returned but it looked the same as it did in all of his memories, implanted or otherwise. Lively, vibrant, more corrupt the farther down you went, but multicultural regardless, a place where aliens could at least live in peace and have a chance at being more than a second class citizen.

There was hope here, burning brightly like the Senate building and the Jedi temple in the distance, domes and spires standing in stark contrast against the pink and orange sunset sky. Even Revan couldn't help but feel that hope, though he had no idea what would become of him now that they had returned, embracing it for all that it was worth as their shuttle brought them slowly towards the landing pad of the Jedi Temple.

The others, save for Carth - who had asked to be present - were all back at the Senate Building, staying in one of the countless rooms they used to house important guests. It was where all of them had been staying for the past week since their arrival, save for Juhani and Bindo, who had opted to immediately return to the Temple. Revan could understand that, their fates certain as Jedi who had both had their faith in the Order restored in some ways, who were both ultimately loyal to the Code and the ideals it espoused in spite of everything that had happened.

It was something Revan could respect, sensing both of their sincerity and the peace they found in the Jedi Code.

After everything he had been through, however, he was reluctant to return, and he knew Bastila was, as well... Though in her case, the reasons had more to do with her feeling like she didn't have the right to return. It was something he had learned about her during their long discussions the past week, staying up until the small hours of the morning, when they would finally drift off to their separate rooms.

It felt so odd, if only because it was normal and _honest_.

There was an openness there he never thought either of them would be able to share with one another in spite of their Bond. They'd spent so long running away from one aspect of their feelings for another that this new sincerity was as terrifying as it was refreshing, in some ways. Whatever it lead to, Revan was glad it had happened, if only because his experience over the last several months allowed him to help her in ways he might not have been able to before.

He wanted her to be whole again, even if she returned to the Jedi.

After everything she had been through because of the Order and himself, she deserved that much.

As the shuttle finally touched down on the landing pad, Bastila reached out to touch his arm, her presence reminding him what they were here for. There would be no questions this time, no difficult, long interrogations in which he laid bare his thought process and everything that he'd faced these last months for the Jedi to judge.

Today, it was time to finally say goodbye.

Stepping from the shuttle with Carth and Bastila at his side, Revan was struck once more by how large the Temple truly was in spite of the serenity that seemed to permeate even its auditoriums. Being here brought back memories of his childhood, things he'd never thought he would recover, of he and Alek somehow managing to get into trouble in this most sacred of places.

It was funny, a funny memory of their friendship; one not mired in death or destruction, for once, not based in betrayal or the Sith that had nothing to do with the Mandalorian Wars. Today, it was appropriate. Today, he remembered Alek his friend.

Truthfully, Revan was appreciative of the support of both Carth and Bastila, who had more reason to hate Malak than anyone else did. He didn't miss Alek any less and was no less sad about even his happiest memories, but it was testament to how much they cared for him that they were here now.

"Welcome back, Revan, Bastila, Captain Onasi," said Master Vandar, dressed in simple brown robes, as Revan and Bastila both were -- proper attire for a Jedi funeral. "The Republic officiators have already arrived and are preparing the ceremony."

"Thank you," he replied with a bow of his head, straightening a moment later to look at each of the Jedi in the Grandmaster's retinue in turn, most of them quite young, peering at him with open awe in their faces.  

Master Vandar acknowledged his bow with one of his own and then turned about, motioning for the three of them to follow. Together, they traveled through the hallways of the Jedi Temple, a solemn mass of Jedi and Carth, whose eyes were reservedly curious as they examined every aspect of the Temple.

Still, he was Carth, morally and personally responsible, hanging close to the group as they walked towards their destination. Revan was almost certain that his distraction was due to more than the influx of new scenery, but didn't mention it, not here in public with so many of the Jedi listening to them.

Bastila, too, kept nearby, so close that Revan could feel the heat from her body, her eyebrows furrowed deeply as she stared straight ahead. Briefly, she looked up at him, offering him a small, reserved smile before she reached out to squeeze his fingers reassuringly.  

Later, after his own grief was dealt with, he would confront both of them about what they were feeling right now. He would make sure that they were okay, that they could cope and move on from everything that had been done to them or put upon them in the last five years, but for now, Revan was allowing himself to be selfish.

He had been closer to Alek than anyone, and his heart still felt that closeness, even after his memories had burnt to ash on the Behemoth.

Their walk ended when they reached a small, open air room that Revan knew from experience was used to cremate the bodies of fallen Jedi. He'd been here before as a very young child, though the reasons were unclear to him and would likely remain that way for the rest of his life, something he refused to pretend didn't bother him.

Inside, several Republic officials waited for them, nodding in greeting as their group entered, the door shutting quietly behind them. For a moment, Revan just stared, his eyes still on the shrouded figure of Alek, who lay on a large pyre, decay likely prevented through the use of a cold chamber. It was as if he was unable to look away, drawn in by the sight of his friend, his body prepared to be turned to ashes just as his soul had joined once more with the Force.

Then, the ceremony itself began and time rushed forward.

Later, Revan would barely recall what had happened during the ceremony itself. He knew what sorts of words the Jedi and Republic muttered at funerals of fallen heroes, and he didn't care to remember any insincerity in their eyes or voices as they spoke. He wanted only to remember the support of Carth and Bastila at his side, and what he could summon of Alek, who deserved better than the end that had been written for him.

At least, Revan thought, he had gone on his own terms, in the end.

The ceremony finished with the same sense of solemnity with which it had began, one of the young Jedi in attendance igniting the pyre a moment later...

And just like that, Revan's past went up in flames.

They stood there for what seemed like both a moment and an eternity all at once, pulling away and leaving the room only when he could no longer look at his friend's body, withering in the fire. Revan simply walked, finding himself back at the landing pad what seemed a moment later, staring out onto the city below and around them, finding that enough time had passed that the skyscrapers had started to turn orange in the sunset.

For a moment he simply stared at the skyline, lost in it like he wanted to be lost in the city, completely anonymous in every way.

But he wouldn't be able to let that happen for awhile.

Reaching up, Revan ran his hand absently over his beard, wondering if anyone would recognize him if he shaved it all off. Maybe he would see, after all this was over, after he'd received his accolades from the Republic and everyone had come to a decision about what they wanted to do and how they wanted to do it.

Walking toward the edge of the platform, Revan sank down, tucking his legs to his chest as he continued to stare out at Coruscant.

Out there, Mission and Zaalbar were finding a way to piece their new lives together on a city that wouldn't hate them for not being human, to finally settle down and find a second wind, to live and start over as they'd never been able to before. One day, after he and Mission were long gone, Zaalbar would take the blade of his ancestors and go back to Kashyyyk, where he would lead his people as their chief, their memory not dying as long as he drew berath.

Out there, the droids waited for them anxiously, T3 keeping HK in check through constant reminders of the consequences his actions would have... Not for himself, but for Revan. Wherever Revan went, they would go, too from now on, loyal to the man and his friends who never once considered wiping their memories or forcing them to behave more like off-the-assembly line models.

Life went on, even for Juhani and Bindo, who lived here now. Whatever Juhani went on to do, she'd do it with renewed faith in herself and other people and an understanding of the world beyond the Jedi Order. She could become a member of the Council someday, replace the chaff with gold, and shape the Order into what it had always been meant to be. Bindo would finally have a chance to rest, to come to terms with everything that had happened to him and heal, and finally end his days in peace.

So where did that leave the rest of them, he wondered?

What would happen if, another two or three years from now, the Galaxy needed him again?

Would Carth and Canderous come out of the woodwork to help him, if they went back to their lives as career warriors and soldiers? Would the others forsake their paths to join up with him once again?

There was still so much to question and think about, and though Revan was certain that his sense of unease was due entirely to living in danger for so long, he still couldn't shake the feeling that any sense of normalcy and safety he might experience wouldn't ever really last.

Revan sensed the approach of Carth and Bastila, talking quietly between themselves as they neared. He didn't pay attention to what they were saying, choosing to listen as they grew closer, looking up at them only when they both stood by his side.

"This has to be hard for you," Bastila began, sinking down to sit beside him and reaching out to quietly cover his hand with her own.

Revan smiled, amused that she phrased it so mildly when she had to know exactly how he was feeling right, his feelings a mess of grief and uncertainty. She had changed so much since he had first met her on Taris, still headstrong, but much more aware of the way her actions might affect others.

Bastila had grown up, he only wished that it hadn't been at the price of the moral purity she had valued so much, even if the experience might turn out to be good for her in the long run.

There had to be a way to teach Jedi to be healthier people, to teach them how to deal with jealousy and rage and loss, without making them sacrifice the core of who they were. More and more Revan wondered if the Fall only happened because Jedi were never prepared for what the might find beyond the walls of this peaceful, sacred Temple.

"It is," he said, finally ending the silence between of them, turning his hand over to lace their fingers together, "But, you know, my life is kind of one big, difficult tangle right now. I don't really expect anything I go through to be easy."

"Well, you're not here alone," Carth said, finally sinking down to sit by the both of them. "At least there's that."

Revan was struck by the feeling that he'd been here before, his throat suddenly growing thick with emotion that he couldn't swallow past, try as he might. The circumstances were different, and he couldn't remember them exactly, his mind so broken that he knew in his heart of hearts he would never know everything about himself ever again, but...

A hand on his shoulder, flanked on either side by people he cared about, staring out at a skyline not too different than this one. Words, so much like the ones Carth had just spoken, echoing in his heart as he remembered old friendships, a younger, bolder man lit with the fire of idealism and hope.

Reaching up with his free hand, Revan passed his hands briefly over his eyes, wiping away the tears that had started to bubble over.

"Let's get out of here," he said after a moment. "Let's go anywhere but here. Who knows how much longer we have together?"

Revan didn't see Bastila and Carth exchange a look, but he could see it.

Funny, how the three of them had gone from barely getting along to being bound together by an understanding that only the three of them could possibly share. Even if they'd had to be torn apart first, the three of them had all come back from their lonely sojourns as better people... Even if they were inherently different ones.

"Yeah," Carth said, pushing himself to his feet. "Let's make the most of it."

Even as they made their way back to the shuttle, Revan couldn't help but feel that all of this was ephemeral, like he had to hold onto every second or he'd lose them, one at a time, until there was nothing left but static.

Together, they flew back towards the State District, where there were plenty of small shops and restaurants run by locals to entertain tourists visiting Coruscant. During peace time, they'd be open long after the sun set, entertaining diners and giving citizens of the Republic a taste of Coruscanti life.

Now, they were quiet, though the first buzzes of post-war business were beginning to breathe life back into the shell of the broken Republic. The Sith had nearly destroyed everything, but people were starting to arrive to see Revan and his companions awarded with the Cross of Glory, reminding him somehow that life was resilient and went on even if the face of incredible loss.

They would recover.

What Revan had done wasn't permanent, just like the subjugation of countless races by the Rakata hadn't been permanent. All Empires crumbled to dust eventually, forgotten in the wake of those who came after them and built on their accomplishments.

It was a cycle, one he found oddly comforting as the slipped into a smaller shop that sold a cheap version of Twi'leki cuisine. It was run by immigrants from Ryloth, Revan remembered with a sudden smile, thinking about the times he and Alek had snuck off here to indulge, his heart squeezing as he remembered it.

They really had been absurdly bad Jedi.

"I always go here when I'm on shore leave," Carth explained, sitting down at one of the tables as they waited to be served. "When Dustil was visiting before going off to the Temple, we ate here. He says he'll meet me again, Jedi Order's rules be damned."

"I'm sure he will," Bastila said. "Your son seems like a very headstrong person... And he seems as though he wishes to know his father." She smiled wistfully, sadly, her expression mirroring Carth's own. "Perhaps I'll go visit my mother in the hospital while I'm here. Revan... Will you...?"

"Will I come with you?" he asked her, watching as she nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yeah. I'll go with you."

Bastila smiled reservedly, her gratitude relaxing her expression as she stared at the menu, making him wonder if she's ever really been to a place like this before. He barely remembered being here himself, but...

Well, he'd always been somewhat of an adventurous person.

Revan somehow forgot his woes as they ate, taking a call from Canderous halfway through the meal to talk about Clan Ordo and the possibility of Canderous going to track them down to join the hunt for Mandalore's lost mask. Bastila and Carth didn't seem too pleased at the prospect, but Canderous, as tactful as a rancor, reminded them that some Clans didn't want to start up the war again and that it would be better if they were to join the hunt for the Mask to stop Clans like Fett from getting it.

He finished the conversation by saying that he and Revan should go for drinks sometime where uptight people couldn't interrupt them, leaving Bastila to look mildly offended and Carth to mutter under his breath.

The tension broke a moment later as conversation resumed as normal.

As uncertain was the future was, Revan gave himself permission to live in the moment for the time being. He didn't want to get caught up in the ebb and flow of his own thoughts, simply wanted to be with his friends and not bother with who he would be when he woke up in the morning. Thinking about the irony of stability bringing him uncertainty wasn't high on his list of priorities for the night.

Eventually, though, things wound down, Carth offering to pay the tab because he was the only one with an _actual_ job... Something Bastila seemed to pretend to take offense to, making Revan wonder if his sense of humor might have started to rub off on her. They'd spent so much time together, shared so much, that he honestly wouldn't be surprised if she had... Even if she hadn't realized it.

Together, they left, none of them saying anything as they walked back towards the Senate Building. The night was cool, refreshing this close to the sky, though Revan knew that it would be polluted in the depths, where people mired about with uncertainty of where their next meal would come from.

For all the misfortune he had faced, for all the horrible things that had happened to him, there was still so much suffering out there. The desire to help those people was all that had ever motivated him, something he knew to be true of himself even beyond the scope of his own memories, even when that desire had been twisted into something wicked and dark.

Revan didn't know if he would give that up to live a normal life or keep pursuing it.

When he realized that he was thinking about the future again, he burst out laughing, drawing concerned glances from both of his companions. There was something in their expressions, though, that told him neither of them was completely surprised at his behavior... They'd lived with him in close quarters for far too long now.

And even then, they were both quizzical enough to want to know exactly what he was laughing about.

"It's my inability to stop myself from dwelling on the things that hurt me to think about," Revan admitted. "Being a Jedi is about living only in the moment, but I'm worse at that than anyone I've ever met."

"You are fairly bad at it," Bastila admitted. "I have my own share of issues, but I've always been able to force myself not to think about things."

"Neither is probably the right way to go about dealing with your problems," Carth interjected, "and either is dwelling on them and making them your sole purpose for living. There has to be some kind of balance somewhere."

Balance.

The word struck Revan, who reached up to rub the back of his neck, craning his neck to stare up at the Senate Building. It looked down at all of them, a titan dominating the horizon, gold and chrome in the daylight, a massive, dark shape whose frame was haloed in dark blue at dusk.

"Yeah," Revan said. "Extremes don't work. I think my entire life has proved that point pretty thoroughly. Finding the balance... Now that's the trick."

He paused for a moment, dropping his head and smiling to himself before he glanced to either side of him, his chest welling with renewed gratitude at their presence. Neither of them responded to what he had said, but they both seemed to agree anyway, walking on ahead of him toward the Senate Building.

Revan watched them for a moment, grateful for them for entirely different reasons, both of their futures uncertain, in some ways, as his was. It was a relief to know that he really wasn't alone, that there were other people in this Galaxy he shared something with... Even if that thing wasn't a united purpose, just a mutual understanding.

In a few long strides, Revan caught up with the two of them, riding the elevator in silence as they made their ways through the ornate halls of the Senate Building towards their rooms. Carth looked concerned, Revan practically sensing his frustration, bubbling inside of him until they reached their floor, where he motioned for them to follow.

Revan and Bastila exchanged a glance, Bastila as resolved as he was to follow him.

A few moments later they found themselves on one of the balconies overlooking the city, which spanned for continents beyond them. It was mind boggling to think about the sheer number of sentient life forms here, about their relationships and lives, and how many of them would never leave their small district to see the worlds that orbited the stars you couldn't see here, the light pollution turning the sky a murky purple-black.

"Sorry," Carth said quietly, glancing towards the two of them as the door shut itself behind them. "I wanted you to be the first to know that I've accepted a new commission."

His eyes glinted, dark and intense, as a smile tugged at his lips, "I thought... I don't know. You know what losing things feels like, and I just realized... I have the chance to get that back, or at least to help my people go back home."

Revan was at a loss, for a moment, Bastila even moreso, until Revan realized that he must be talking about Telos. Slowly, a smile that mirrored Carth's own lit up his face, "They need Republic military to help oversee the reconstruction of Telos."

Carth nodded, and Revan hesitated, "Is that even possible?" he asked after a quiet moment, noting the way Bastila's hands gripped the sleeves of her own robe.

"I don't know," Carth admitted. "But I'll be an Admiral and responsible for protecting all the people on the space station who are giving their everything to try. If it can be done, I want to see it to completion. I owe Telos that much... And..." he laughed quietly, the sound still somehow carrying through the night. "And I think I owe myself this, too."

For a moment, Revan and Bastila were both quiet, Bastila stepping forward to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, the first to speak, "I think, perhaps, I could learn from your example. This will be good for you, Carth. I know historically we haven't always seen eye to eye, but... If this is what you want, then I believe you should pursue it."

Carth looked into her face, shock echoing across his features in the wake of her words, before it was replaced by a warm smile as he reached out to touch her shoulder, "Thanks, Bastila. That... Means a lot to me."

Revan laughed, his voice carrying far over the buildings, as he leaned down and tossed an arm around both of their shoulders, grinning from ear to ear as the meaning of the words finally hit him. He could see both of their faces break out into expressions of complete surprise so hilarious that it made him laugh even more, his joy for Carth and for Telos amplified somehow by their response to his actions.

"Congratulations, Admiral," Revan said as he looked at his friend, choking back his laughter as he brought himself under control. "The biggest lost here is that Mission won't be able to call you Captain Galaxy anymore. I'm sure she'll mourn."

Carth's return smile was sheepish, at first, but it soon reached his eyes as he returned Revan's favor, tossing his arm around Revan's neck, "She'll get over it."

Bastila remained frozen for a moment, then finally relaxed into his touch, a smile softening her features.

For a moment they stood like that, the lump returning to Revan's throat, forcing him to pull away and grasp the railing, staring out at the city once more. He could feel the eyes of his friends on him, Bastila's eyes especially full of concern as she walked toward him, placing her hand gently on his back as she gazed up into his face.

"I didn't thank you," Revan said at last, his voice thick with emotion that he couldn't quite place. "He hurt the both of you so much, took everything from you, and you both went with me to say goodbye."

Neither of them said anything for a long moment, leaving Revan's mind to wander, to picture the faces of Alek and... and Meetra in his mind, her face swimming clearly before his eyes for the first time. He'd dreamed about her once, long ago, before all of this had happened, he just... hadn't realized that the reserved smile and clever, calm blue eyes had belonged to someone he'd held in such high regard.

A friend, he realized with a pang, who might still be alive.

"I didn't go for Malak," Carth said at last, breaking the silence that had fallen around them, not awkward, simply... _heavy_. "I went because you needed me to go, and because, against all odds, the man who I blamed for so much of the wrong in my life when I should have taken some of the blame myself is one of my _best friends_."

The words struck Revan, who looked at Carth for a moment, watching as the man stepped up to stand fully beside him, his eyes staring out at the city, "Even though I'm leaving, that's not going to change. You changed my life, Revan, first for the worst... And then for the better."

"It hasn't always been easy getting along with you or understanding you, but the moment I accepted that you were a person like any other is the moment I understood you," he smiled. "I turned on you and you still helped me because you thought it was the right thing to do...  And in the process reminded me that people can change... Even me. How could I not support you when you'd already supported me through my darkest hour, even knowing I'd turned my back on you?"

Revan wanted to laugh at the melodrama of it all, but he didn't.

He could sense Carth's sincerity, tearing his eyes away from his friend, the city beneath them lighting up, making the atmosphere glow.

Somewhere on Coruscant, the sun was rising.

"Thank you," he said again, smiling as tears began to prick at his eyes. "You have no idea what it means to be more than just my name to someone."

Briefly, his eyes flickered to Bastila, who was staring back up at him, her expression serious and yet gentle. There was no smile there, but he could feel the intensity of her emotions as she reached up to touch the side of his face, communicating without any words exactly how she felt for him.

Even if it never amounted to anything, even if somehow the future turned everything they had worked for on its head, right now it meant something.

Revan knew that Bastila would never hesitate to do for him what he had done for her.

It was their love, not anything else, that had brought them both through the despair of the Star Forge.

It was for love that she stood by his side now, a love beyond anything either of them had ever experienced before.

Right now, that was all that mattered.

Together, he stood with Carth and Bastila, watching the city beneath them and thinking only of the present moment.


End file.
